


Heliotropic

by PunkHazard



Series: Synaesthesia [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:04:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 68,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7261504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkHazard/pseuds/PunkHazard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>adjective</i>, Biology. </p><p>1. growing toward the light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

As a testament to her time on the battlefield, Angela doesn’t shriek and drop her program brochure when a hand closes around her shoulder, as she might have in her youth before Overwatch. The grip isn’t tight, but it’s immovable– no warmth in the touch but so familiar it makes her smile. Of all the times and places she expected to run into her one-time patient, midnight in Numbani isn’t it. Yet, in a utopia for humans and Omnics alike, why shouldn’t she have expected it?

“Genji,” Angela says, turning around, straight into the embrace he folds her into, “it has been so long.”

“Too long,” he concurs in that surging cadence, the lights in his visor flashing briefly to show his pleasure. For all the warmth lacking in his extremities, it saturates his voice in a way that’s wholly new to Mercy, though not unpleasant. “It’s good to see you, Dr. Ziegler.”

She doesn’t release him, content to stay with his hands on her shoulders, only a few inches between them. The appreciation for physical contact is new; he used to be so averse to touch, disgusted by his new body, but now seems to welcome it. Mercy cups his face, finger drawing along the line of his jaw before she pats his faceguard where his cheek would be. “What brings you to Numbani?”

“My teacher wished to see a concert and I received tickets, so we came together.” Genji glances over his shoulder, as if searching the crowd for someone. Not finding them, he turns back to Mercy, the light behind his visor dimming slightly. “I saw you as we were heading to the stage, and thought I would catch you before you ended up in Ghana.”

Ignoring the joke about her sense of direction, Angela pulls away and ducks around Genji, scanning the crush of people and Omnics moving past them. “Your teacher?”

Genji turns to keep her in his line of sight, his peripheral vision necessarily somewhat limited with his headgear. “I can’t wait for you to meet him, Dr. Ziegler.”

“I am here to watch the concert as well,” Angela tells him. “Lena wanted to see what the new generation of heroes looked like.”

“Lúcio Correia dos Santos.” Genji looks contemplative, as if weighing Tracer’s words in his mind. Since the Recall, he hadn’t run into any other former colleagues, putting off the reunion to set his affairs in order. The idea of ‘heroes’ might be subjective (he had never quite considered himself one, despite Overwatch’s insistence on the term) but– “If the world has need of more heroes, he would be a logical choice.”

“You’ve done your homework, I see.” He’s always been thorough with his reconnaissance, though in his earlier years he had also been distressingly impulsive despite the data he’d been able to gather. Angela frowns. “She was also afraid there would be an attempt on his life.”

“Is Tracer here?” After a moment he turns to Mercy, undoubtedly looking concerned beneath his faceguard. “Were you two separated?”

“She is… somewhere.” Waving off his question, Angela returns to his side and smiles at him, sunny and warm. “What interests you in Santos, Genji?”

“It’s rare that someone can inspire others to act, as he has done.” Genji reorients himself in relation to the stage area, then begins walking toward it at a leisurely clip, shortening and slowing his usual long, loping stride so Angela can keep up. “Master Zenyatta has wanted to see him up close for some time now.”

Genji was never so talkative when they were in Overwatch together; Angela decides not to point it out. “I hear many good things about Numbani,” she comments instead, falling into step beside him and linking her arm through his. Lightly touching Genji’s shoulder vents she asks, “Do you feel at home here?”

He doesn’t look at her this time.

“I do not, Dr. Ziegler.”

* * *

 

They locate Tracer and Zenyatta minutes before Lúcio takes the stage, their two companions having, impossibly, found each other in the crowd. Tracer spots them first, jumping and waving her arms until Genji makes his way to them, Mercy on his heels as the crowd parts in front of him. Several people reach out to touch him, Omnics and humans alike recognizing him from his brief stint in Overwatch.

He wasn’t the most popular operative by a long shot but in Numbani, at least, they know him well. Genji’s childhood training surfaces here more than anywhere else, dozens of eyes on him at all times: not ideal for a man whose survival regularly depends on his ability to slip below others’ notice.

“Genji!” Tracer throws her arms around his neck and squeezes, her forehead knocking lightly against his chestplate. He returns the gesture with a gentle pat on the shoulder before extricating himself.

When Genji finally gets a closer look at her face, he discreetly bumps the contrast in his visor, easily picking out the dark circles under her eyes and the uncharacteristically nervous shift in her stance. “Lena. Is everything all right?”

“Never mind that, love, did you know the Shambali are here?”

Genji exchanges a look with his master, smiling underneath his mask as Zenyatta chuckles. “Master Zenyatta is here with me,” he tells her, “though I don’t know that any others are.”

Tracer only seems mildly surprised by the news, and she looks him over with an appraising eye as he flanks Zenyatta again, placing his back to the nearest wall, eyes on as many entrances to the square as he can see. “You’re with the Shambali?” she asks, arms flailing slightly in excitement. “Is that what you’ve been up to?”

“I have spent much time with them,” he says, “but master Zenyatta is no longer affiliated. We are here independently.”

“We remain on good terms,” Zenyatta reassures at the dismay on Lena’s face. “We simply disagree on method.”

Nodding slightly, Tracer turns back to Genji and grins, smacking him on the arm. She’s always been observant, empathetic and kind. Maybe too much so, because she’s already picked out the changes in his stance, shoulders relaxed, his bearing no longer cloaked behind a wall of hostility. “You seem different,” she says, somewhat cautiously.

Years ago he’d simply turn around and leave when a conversation grated against his nerves, but few things can ruffle his feathers nowadays. “I am different,” he answers, pride in his voice. “Many things can change in ten years; in my case, for the better.”

“And in my case?”

“As expected from the extraordinary girl you were when we served together,” Genji answers promptly, “you are an extraordinary woman. I’ve heard much about your accomplishments since Overwatch disbanded.”

She throws her arms around his neck again, jumping slightly to reach. “You’re a real flatterer, y'know that?” Giggling as Genji squeezes her back and lets her down, she tells him, very sincerely, “I’m happy for you, Genji.”

* * *

 

“You could’ve been anywhere in the world tonight,” Lúcio crows into the mic as he takes his place at the DJ booth, “but you’re here in Numbani! _Estão prontos para quebrar a barreira do som?!_ ”

Genji watches Lúcio on stage for about a minute before Tracer tugs on his arm, pulling him down so she doesn’t have to yell above the crowd. Zenyatta and Mercy are both swaying to the beat, lightly pushed around by the audience but seeming to enjoy it, Zenyatta especially. It’s possible he’s never been to a concert before; despite all his curiosity about Genji’s life, the omnic had never been particularly forthcoming about his own.

“Did Angela tell you why we’re here?” Tracer whisper-shouts.

“She said you were afraid there would be an attempt on his life.”

Nodding emphatically, Tracer pulls on his arm again, then sticks her face close to his, staring straight into his visor. “I don’t want to rain on your concert, but help me keep an eye out, won’t you Genji?”

“I will. It is not my first concert.”

Watching for snipers turns out to be somewhat more difficult at an EDM concert than at something like a protest rally; the audience’s size, their lightsticks, flashing LEDs and strobes obscuring the details Genji would normally be able to pick out in a crowd with no trouble. Tracer seems to be having the same problem, with the added obstacle of her height putting her eyeline well below most of the spectators’.

“I am going to find a better location,” Genji tells her, looking briefly at Zenyatta and Mercy. “Stay with Dr. Ziegler and master Zenyatta in case something happens.”

“Roger that.”

He slinks away, pushing through the crowd, down an alley, then up a wall. From there Genji moves closer to the stage, pausing at the edge of a mall complex’s roof and dropping into a crouch. With a good line of sight to the stage as well as every path in and out of the square, he relaxes enough to finally watch the show. He’s been to plenty of EDM concerts– the draw of them usually the crowd and… recreational substances rather than the DJ, but Lúcio’s managed to make the show all about him, moving around on stage, somehow remotely controlling the turntables while he zips along the edge of the audience and slaps their extended hands.

“I’ve got a new album dropping in winter!” he announces, returning to his booth and flicking a few dials on the controller. “Here’s a little preview.”

Genji barely notices the music as it starts, a mellow, airy electronic rhythm, but after a few seconds he can barely pull his eyes away from the stage, some impulse to keep watching Lúcio seizing his attention and keeping it locked on the DJ. He’d heard that Lúcio’s music could have that effect on people; an almost involuntary reaction to subliminal beats that he’s managed to incorporate in the bass notes, but it’s not an unpleasant immersion.

(Vishkar had reported that it was a side effect of the technology Lúcio stole– 'reappropriated’– from their facilities, but all testimonials have said that even before driving Vishkar out of Rio de Janeiros, dos Santos’s music captivated people in ways that ordinary music could not. Genji’s inclined to believe it; the charisma and energy on stage are impossible to fake.)

Almost in a haze, he catches sight of a dark shape moving backstage, steps heavy and full of purpose.

It could be part of Lúcio’s security team; it could be something else. Genji scans the crowd for his companions, picking out the glow of Zenyatta’s floating orbs. He considers calling Tracer, but there’s no guarantee that she’ll be able to hear him, so he shoots off a text to his master instead.

> Checking backstage. Please ask Tracer to call me. TY.

He gets the reply almost immediately.

> OK.

Tracer calls him as he drops to the ground, following the shadowy figure behind the stage to a massive hub of cables and switches. The man kneels and begins to sort through an assortment of wires as if searching for a port to connect a drive into. Genji patches Lena through to his video feed, then flips three shuriken out of his arm, sending all of them at the intruder’s back.

The first one connects but the others only graze him as he rolls away. He’s wearing night-vision goggles, moves like a trained soldier, and dresses like a Blackwatch operative. And, like any competent Blackwatch agent whose cover has been blown, the stranger grabs a handful of cables and pulls them out of the hub, a good half of the lights and speakers set up in the square abruptly going offline.

“Here goes,” Tracer sighs into her phone. “Was that you, Genji?”

“Sorry to rain on your concert,” he cheekily answers, dashing forward and disarming the man before subduing him with an elbow to the back of his neck. “I think they have begun to move.”

Lúcio’s voice comes on, carrying through the remaining speakers to reach every corner of the audience. “Looks like we’re experiencing some technical difficulties! _Sentimos muito pela inconveniência_ , but it looks like everyone might have to start heading home. Hit us up on the site with your name to get a refund on the tickets, OR a voucher for my next concert in Numbani. Boa noite, yo.”

Fast on his feet, Genji thinks, intercepting Lúcio as he rounds the screen set up at the back of the stage. The DJ skids to a stop when he catches sight of an agent slumped on the floor, Genji standing over him. “Yo, what’s going on back here?” Lúcio blinks, squints at Genji, then: “Hey, you’re Overwatch, aren’t you? Genji? Dude, my cousin had your action figure–”

“You are in danger,” Genji interrupts, closing the distance between them. “Is there a secure area?”

“Around that corner,” Lúcio says, taking the lead as he breezes by Genji, hopping past the steps off the stage and leading him to a dressing room. “What’s happening?”

“We believe Talon is trying to assassinate popular figures around the world. Beginning with Mondatta, they have now come after you.”

“That’s why Overwatch is here?”

“Overwatch disbanded five years ago,” Genji says. “We just happened to be here.”

“Yeah, alright.” A wink. “I got you.”

Confirming that Lúcio’s done asking questions, Genji turns away and brings up his phone line again. “Lúcio is with me.” He sends Tracer coordinates, a map of the square with their position marked. “We are secure, if you would like to join me.”

“I’ll be right there, love. Crowd’s moving against us.”

“Who was that?” Lúcio asks as Genji turns back to him, ducking out of his way as he checks the doors and secures the windows. “You’re not alone?”

Bluntly: “A friend.” Genji methodically clears two tables, wedging one against each window to block or at least slow any incoming fire. Lúcio helps with the second one, once he’d figured out what Genji wanted to do. “If you have heard my name,”  he says, objective at hand accomplished for the moment, “do you know Tracer?”

“Tracer?” Lúcio’s mouth drops exaggeratedly open. “No way! Tracer’s at my concert?”

Lúcio can’t see it, but Genji smiles under his mask. Years ago he might have resented the fame, how working for Overwatch put every agent firmly under a spotlight, but recently hearing strangers speak about his friends and colleagues with such excited admiration only induces a quiet pride in the idea that he’d served alongside those same individuals. “You may also know Mercy. Dr. Angela Ziegler.”

“Why weren’t you guys on the guest list?”

“I suppose we did not think it was relevant.”

Lúcio rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning.

“I had an action figure?” Genji asks after a moment.

“It was a bootleg toy.” Offering him a sympathetic grimace, Lúcio says, “You were one of the agents that people weren’t actually sure existed.”

When the door slams open, Genji has his shuriken in his hand almost faster than Lúcio can blink, but it’s only Tracer bursting into the room. “We’re here!” she announces, then pauses in front of Lúcio, holding a hand up to her visor. “Wow, Lúcio, I’m taller than you!”

“Oh my god.” Lúcio clutches his chest, his knees going weak as he doubles over, blades sliding him several feet backwards. “Tracer knows my name. Someone hold me.”

Tracer laughs, loud and bright– the first time Genji’s heard it all day. “Oh, stop it. Of course I know who you are!”

“And you,” he says suddenly, jabbing a finger at Lena, “are not taller than me.”

Shaking her head in disbelief at the shower of positivity suddenly assaulting her senses, Lena can’t help another laugh. “Am too!”

“Not when I do this!” Lúcio ducks his head, flinging his locs up so they arc over Tracer’s head before they flop back down into his face. “See? Instant height.”

“That doesn’t count, you cheater. Angela, tell him!”

Mercy looks thoughtful for a second, then, “I believe it counts.”

“Tracer is still the shortest,” Genji agrees, bumping Zenyatta’s shoulder lightly with his own while the omnic chuckles.

“None of you,” says Lena, pouting, “are as funny as you think you are.”

Before their collective laughter dies down, a bullet shatters the window to Genji’s left. He immediately places himself between the table that had taken the shot and Zenyatta, sighing slightly. “It seems they have found us,” he says unnecessarily. “We should prepare to move.”

Angela huffs, her grip around her staff tightening. “Are we surrounded?”

“No,” says Genji, “they would have all come at us together.” Somehow, the Talon agents had been separated, thrown out of formation and scrambling to regroup. It gave them some time– maybe enough to extract the target before Talon can finish him off.

“Lúcio told everyone to leave,” Tracer cuts in, checking outside the windows, “so they must’ve been caught in the crowd like the three of us.”

“Should I… not have?”

“It was the right thing to do,” Mercy tells him. “You bought us time.”

Shrugging, Lúcio fiddles with his headset cable. “I figure the lights go out all the time in my hood,” he says matter-of-factly, “but in Numbani something had to have been up. Better get the audience out if something dangerous is about to go down.”

Genji gives him a long, considering look before nodding. “Quick thinking.” Then he lines himself up carefully near the window, mostly still shielded behind the table. He motions for Tracer to draw her pistols as well, going through a quick series of hand signals before they both aim outside. Genji launches his shuriken first, and Lúcio catches sight of a black-clad soldier running to the right, away from the volley– straight into Tracer’s line of fire.

“Nice,” says Lúcio as the agent goes down. “You guys did that a lot?”

“Faster than talking,” Genji answers. “More will come. Are we ready?”

A chorus of affirmatives, from all but one.

Pressing her back to the wall, leaning heavily on it for support, Tracer shuts her eyes and inhales deeply. “I can’t let anyone die on my watch again,” she says, mostly to herself, “especially not someone who can inspire people the way Lúcio does.”

Lúcio gives her a look. “Again?”

“At the Mondatta rally. I… couldn’t stop Widowmaker.”

“It wasn’t your duty,” Zenyatta interrupts, “but you tried to save my brother regardless. I thank you, Miss Oxton.” He discreetly motions for Genji to take over, soft glow from his orbs dimly lighting up the room.

“I do as well.” Genji approaches her slowly, his stance easy and casual but taking him within steps of her. “Mondatta was my teacher and friend. Your efforts will not be wasted.”

Tracer gasps, moments away from forgetting the objective at hand and bombarding Genji with questions about Mondatta, but she remembers herself as Genji flips three shuriken out of his arm and nestles them in his deft mechanical fingers. She claps, once, unable to hide the apprehension in her face but gamely determined to press forward. “Right, then. Let’s finish this so we can catch up! Just like old times, eh love?”

Genji cants his head toward her in a brief acknowledgement, thumb rubbing idly against the edge of one throwing star. They’ve completed several assignments together, each one a success, so he has no qualms about pressing forward in tandem with her. “Tracer and I will eliminate this threat,” he says, turning to Lúcio, Zenyatta and Mercy. “You three stay here.”

“I will join you,” insists Angela. “Lena and I will flank them from the south entrance.”

“Genji and I will clear the east wing,” Zenyatta volunteers, stopping Genji’s protest with a single lifted hand.

“And I’m not useless here either.” Lúcio ducks into a bag for his gear, rifling through it for his sonic amplifier while Mercy equips her armor and Zenyatta checks his orbs. Once ready, Lúcio drops into a crouch to flex his legs, their mechanical whirs changing slightly in timbre. “You two can heal? Then all four of you stay close to me and I’ll show you something sweet.”

Genji plants himself in front of the door as Lúcio moves for it, looming over the smaller man. Most people wouldn’t try to take on a cyborg, let alone a ninja one, but Lúcio seems to be considering it until Genji steps back slightly, motioning with a quick turn of his head toward the outside. “The world cannot afford to lose you three. Please, do as I ask.”

“All those people are here because of me,” Lúcio counters, “I can’t just wait here while they’re in danger.”

“I agree with Genji,” Tracer cuts in, moving to stand beside her old colleague. “Besides which, you’re all very important to the two of us, if it’s not too forward of me to say. It’s too risky.”

“Genji,” Zenyatta chides, moving forward, long fingers wrapping around his wrist and holding him in place, “if you allow your fears to control your strategy, only your fears will come to pass.”

“Master–”

“None of us are defenseless.” Angela and Lúcio nod as Zenyatta folds his hands back in his lap. “Now, with a cool head, do you still suggest that we stay here? I will trust your judgment.”

Genji of all people knows how dangerous Zenyatta can be should he decide to take the battlefield, but after Mondatta’s assassination he’d become significantly more protective; Omnic monks aren’t exactly known for their resilience. He backs down reluctantly, unable to deny the logic. “I would like nothing more than to have you watching my back again, master. Tracer, please keep Dr. Ziegler safe. Lúcio, try to stay behind me.”

Pulling him aside, Tracer drops her voice to a whisper, glancing momentarily over her shoulder to look at their companions, all of them preparing to deploy. “Are you sure about this?” she hisses, “I don’t know what’s up with you and master Zenyatta, but I know what Angela means to you, and I don’t want them hurt.”

“Their best chance of leaving this place alive is you and me,” he answers, though if Genji were the type to be upfront about his feelings he’d tell her that he doesn’t like the idea of them out in the open, either. “Our best chance of getting them out is with their support. I will keep Lúcio and my master safe, and I trust you to protect Dr. Ziegler.”

“It’s just,” pausing to push her fringe out of her eyes, Tracer drops her eyes to the floor, “I don’t trust myself right now, Genji.”

He resists the urge to remind her of all her successful missions while in Overwatch. The skills he’d seen her hone, the expertise and professionalism she’d always displayed. All of that pales in comparison to the present. “You have experienced a failure that has wounded you deeply,” he observes instead. Zenyatta had never forced him to take a step he wasn’t ready to, had only paved the road for when he decided to move forward on his own, always with gentle encouragement. Storing his shuriken and putting his hands on her shoulders, firm and sure, “It will take time that we do not have for you to heal.”

Looking up at him, Tracer seems years younger. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“But this time, you are not alone. Genji is with you.”

Lena sighs, reaching up to cup his face with both hands and smiling softly at him. “I’ve missed you.”

“Likewise, Lena.” Canting his head, Genji flashes his visor and grins under the mask. “Let’s go.”

Tracer lets go of his face and steps back, her shoulders straight. “The cavalry’s here, love.”

* * *

 

Catching the earpiece Lúcio tosses him as they return to the group, Genji slots it into his helmet, near his second set of audio receptors in lieu of trying to fit it into his actual ear under all his headgear. Mercy, Tracer and Zenyatta each receive one of their own, and Lúcio’s headset seems to be able to receive and transmit to all of them.

“Testing,” Lúcio quips, “one two three. Check in, y'all.”

“Tracer here!”

“The doctor is in.”

“Can you hear me now?”

Zenyatta’s response makes Genji smile, expression hidden behind his mask but he sees his master turn to look in his direction anyway, serene amusement in his body language. “I read,” Genji answers, re-equipping three shuriken and dropping into a low, offensive stance. Upbeat electronica starts pumping into his earpiece, subtly raising his pulse and concentrating his focus, the same way Lúcio’s concert set had somehow managed to consume his entire attention when he should have been watching for threats.

Lúcio himself practically bounces on his heels when Genji positions himself in front of the door, the man an irrepressible force of movement and energy drawing and holding the eye of everyone in the room. Genji had grown accustomed to stillness– Zenyatta doesn’t breathe– and he himself had been taught to be motionless and stealthy, a habit he couldn’t lose even if he wanted to. Mercy herself is somewhat flashy, light hair and bright white wings hardly conducive to staying hidden in the dark. Zenyatta glows.

Exchanging a look with Tracer, some understanding passes between that the two of them, who had primarily conducted recon and sabotage missions, would need to prioritize and their wards may very well not take kindly to the idea.

“If we are separated,” says Genji, “do not hesitate to call for backup. Tracer and I can only handle what we can see.”

“Moving on three,” Lena says, drawing her pistols, “two, one!”

First out the door is Genji, immediately deflecting a round of automatic rifle-fire from the side. Tracer blinks out of his sight but the initial attack stops abruptly as he moves for the next building, Lúcio and Zenyatta on his heels. Once inside what looks like a rapidly-evacuated restaurant, Genji makes a round through the main dining area, then ducks into the kitchen to clear it. Zenyatta seems to find the place irresistably interesting, picking up abandoned utensils and ingredients to inspect as he follows Genji through. Lúcio does the same, popping the occasional piece of carrot or lettuce into his mouth.

Leaving his charges in the kitchen, Genji tries each room behind the restaurant. He runs into two Talon operatives ransacking the main office and dispatches them neatly, shoving them into a broom closet and wedging the door shut.

Just by a storage room Tracer pulls open a door and pops in from the other side, narrowly avoiding a sword to the face for her trouble.

“Good to see you too,” she chirps, ducking around him for the kitchen, Mercy following behind her. “We found a way out of the city, and I’ve called for an Overwatch chopper. Should be arriving shortly.”

Falling into step next to Angela as Tracer dashes ahead, Genji allows her to lean on him without complaint. “Everything went well?”

“All is well,” Mercy answers, breathless, “but I forget how quickly Lena runs.”

“Genji?” Tracer’s voice buzzes in his ear before he can respond to Angela. “Where’s Lúcio?”

“He’s with master Zenyatta,” Genji tells her, “in the kitchen.”

“I’m there, love. They’re… not here.”

“ _Shit._ ”  Forgetting for a moment the fact that he’s supposed to be a man at peace, Genji sheepishly ignores the stern look Mercy turns on him for swearing over the public channel. “Any sign?”

“We’re okay!” Lúcio’s voice crackles into his earpiece, “We’re okay! Just– whoa!”

“I am fine as well!” Zenyatta concurs, sounding mildly distressed. That’s usually the human equivalent of full-blown panic.

Relief wars briefly with irritation; they don’t sound fine at all, and the percussive boom of bullets being fired, along with faint pings of their ricochets, carry through the channel. Genji snarls into his receiver, “Where are you two?”

“Saw a kid get chased into– an alley– and we stepped in. Kid’s alright, but we’re– maybe gonna need a little help? If it’s not– not too much trouble.”

“I am on my way.” Hands steady only by virtue of over two decades of experience with life-threatening situations, Genji scales the nearest wall as soon as he exits the restaurant, following his instinct to take the higher ground whenever possible. It doesn’t take him long to pick a direction and go, music beating faintly from an alley three buildings away, along with the sound of gunfire.

Lúcio’s placed himself between Zenyatta and an armored, masked operative, the omnic throwing orbs over his shoulder while Lúcio taunts and distracts. Genji considers that they seem to have a pretty good handle on the situation but just as several more agents arrive and cock their guns, he drops in front of Lúcio in time to parry most of the bullets, only taking one to his own armored thigh. Enough to hurt but not enough to diminish his mobility as he rushes forward. Zenyatta and Lúcio are on him immediately, a fast, frenetic beat raisinghis speed and a healing orb taking the edge off most of the damage.

Still, Genji’s first inclination is to veer sideways up the wall and to the roof for a moment to regroup; with Zenyatta and Lúcio behind him that’s not an option. He doesn’t like to reveal his abilities in the presence of people who might live to talk about them, friend or foe, but he reaches for Ryuu Ichimonji.

Silently calling on the dragon (unfortunately) doesn’t work, flashy attention-seeking spirits that they are– as Genji draws his blade and shouts his line, the enemy soldiers scatter. None of them make it far before he cuts them down, alley behind him littered with bodies by the time he limps back to Lúcio and Zenyatta. Shimada dragons are known for defense as much as they are for modesty (read: not at all), and whatever damage their wielders take is their own responsibility, as far as they’re concerned.

Lúcio reaches him first, dialing the volume of his music up to at least numb the injuries while Zenyatta hits him with an orb to knit them. Lúcio helps him sit against the wall, then backs away sheepishly while Genji picks bullets out of his armor and synthetic muscles.

“Uh,” he says. “Sorry about that. We ran off and you got hurt.”

“No need to apologize,” Genji sighs, already drowsy from the healing, his systems taxed to their limit. “I should not have left the two of you alone. And, I can’t fault you for coming to the defense of a child.”

Concern in his posture, Zenyatta floats to him, one robotic hand settling gently on the top of his helmet. “Are you all right?”

“I am, thanks to you, master.” Genji tilts his head into the touch, visor dimming slightly, his words slurring, tone just this side of loopy. “And Lúcio, you have my gratitude for protecting him in my place. Next time, just tell me your location. There is no need to request backup so politely.”

“I’ll uh,” Lúcio bites back a laugh, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

* * *

 

Lena pops into the feed, sound of helicopter blades nearly drowning her out of her own headset. “Chopper’s here!” she announces, “The way’s clear for you three, Angela and I cleaned them out while you were busy.”

Genji takes a long few seconds to haul himself to his feet, leaning only slightly on the arm Zenyatta extends to him. Lúcio moves forward to help– stops himself, then rolls back a few feet to give Genji space, prepared to lend a hand if he were to stumble. They make it out of the alley with no incident, Zenyatta leading the way toward the outskirts of town. Once within sight of the Overwatch chopper sent to retrieve them, Lúcio bounds forward, joining Tracer in the fuselage and strapping in next to her.

“Sweet ride,” he comments, craning his head to see out the door, “where’re we headed?”

“Airport,” answers Mercy, extending a hand to help Genji into the seat next to her, the two of them shifting to make space for Zenyatta as he unfolds his legs and sits. “Our agents will retrieve your equipment, if you would give us a list.”

“So,” says Lúcio, nodding appreciatively as the helicopter lifts off, “I’m gonna be in Hanamura for my next gig, and I was wondering if you guys’d want some free tickets? Backstage passes and everything, just to, y'know, thank you for saving my life and all. Give 'em to your friends, you’ve all got lifetime passes.”

Tracer squirms in her seat, clearly ecstatic about the offer, but conflicted. “Another concert so soon?” she asks. “After what just happened, do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I don’t think I have to worry about Japan. The concert’s smaller.”

Speaking up for the first time since they boarded the chopper, Genji adds, “The fans in Hanamura are not many, but they are loyal. Talon would have nothing to gain from assassinating Lúcio at such a small venue.” Something that sounds suspiciously like a yawn slurs his words slightly, but Genji manages to articulate himself through it. “Not enough publicity.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” Lúcio flashes him a crooked grin, pointing a finger-gun in Genji’s direction, as if to congratulate him for being on the same wavelength. “You really did your research, huh?”

“Hanamura is my hometown.”

Unfazed, Lúcio leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. “So you should definitely come!”

“I have business to attend to on the night of your performance,” Genji tells him, somewhat apologetically as the chopper turns and he lists sideways with the momentum to lean on Zenyatta, “but I can accompany you to Japan tonight if you wish. It may be ahead of your world tour schedule.”

“Hey, that’d be great.” Lúcio whips a phone out of its case, turning it in his hand as he taps out a message to someone. "I’ll have my guys put you up where we’re staying too, if you don’t already have a place to crash.“

Going back to the Shimada estate is obviously out of the question, and Genji had taken pains to distance himself from all possible acquaintances. There’s only one hotel in Hanamura, and several small hostels. He _had_  been planning to set up in a gaming cafe for the night, where he could simultaneously recharge his cybernetics and catch up on current events, but an actual room would certainly lend him more privacy.

To Lúcio, Genji nods. Their expectation that Talon wouldn’t bother with Lúcio in Japan may hold true, but being in the same building would at least offer a level of protection he wouldn’t have otherwise. "I do not, thank you.” Turning to the omnic next to him, “Master…?”

Zenyatta regretfully shakes his head. “I have promised to meet Winston in Gibraltar for my credentials after the concert.”

“Winston asked us to head back, too,” says Tracer. “We’re all gathering up.”

Sounding affronted, Genji folds his arms over his chest. “He didn’t ask me.”

“He said he would give you the call after you were finished in Hanamura,” explains Mercy, motioning for him to put his arms down so she can inspect his body for lasting damage, “so you would not be distracted.”

“Also,” Tracer tells him in an exaggerated whisper, cupping her hand over her mouth, “you intimidate him a bit. I don’t know why, really, you’re a big softie.”


	2. Chapter 2

Touching down mid-day in Narita– still Japan’s largest airport– Lúcio (sans headset and gloves, which he removed to board the plane) checks his phone at baggage claim and mutters something under his breath. “So,” he says, looking sheepish when Genji glances over, “there’re no more rooms at the hotel. Booked solid for the next three weeks ‘til my concert.”

“Ah.” Tilting his head to the side and shutting down the translation interface he’d pulled up, Genji offers, “Congratulations?”

“I mean,” says Lúcio as Genji grabs their luggage (Lúcio makes a move for his but Genji holds it out of his reach, receiving a scowl for his trouble), “we could share my room if it’s cool with you. I don’t know if there’s any place around there that’d still have space.”

“There will not be. Hanamura is a small town.”

“I got the VIP suite, so it’s pretty big.” Lúcio scratches the back of his neck and glances at his phone again as they skip the customs line with a security guard. “I don’t mind rooming with you, but I can move some of my guys in with me and free one up–”

“It would be my pleasure to stay with you, Lúcio. Thank you for the offer.”

“So polite,” Lúcio mutters, fingers tapping out a brief message on his phone before he quickly stuffs it back into his pocket. “I’m gonna be around for a month. Won’t be in Hanamura the whole time 'cause I’ve got some press tours, but the room’ll be reserved anyway so use it whenever.”

Nodding, Genji leads him out of the airport, into the train station underneath. Lúcio pauses at a ticket kiosk, inspecting the screen for a few seconds before Genji reaches over his shoulder and hits the button to change the interface to English. He brandishes his own card before Lúcio can ask if he needs one, an Overwatch-issue transit pass (for the time being simply an automatically-refilled card, unaffiliated with any illegal international agency, which can be used almost anywhere that a public transportation system exists).

“Where do you keep those things?” Lúcio wonders aloud as he purchases his own ticket and they head for the train platform. “I mean, it’s not like you wear clothes. All you’ve got in that bag is your sword and your smaller sword and like, a lifetime’s worth of those throwing stars they wouldn’t let you take on the plane.”

“There are many slots in my armor,” says Genji. “Benefits to being a cyborg ninja.”

Lúcio squints at him. “You keep weapons in there?”

“Yes.”

“Cash?”

“Credit.”

“ID?”

“Mhm.”

“Phone.”

Tapping his visor, “Built into my headgear. Satellite data and WiFi.”

A smile seems to explode all over Lúcio’s face. “Sick!”

They split up with ten minutes to go before boarding (Lúcio to the restroom, Genji up a wall and out of sight, maybe to lurk in the rafters), promising to meet on the train. When Lúcio finally settles in his seat, immediately slouching in it and shutting his eyes, a small disturbance in the air signals Genji’s arrival. He stows their baggage on the overhead track, then pulls out Lúcio’s table and sets something on it. Genji finally sits, letting out a quiet, barely-audible sigh as the train doors close. Just in time.

Lúcio cracks his eyes open. “You got lunch? You didn’t have to.”

“It is a three-hour ride with transfers,” Genji tells him with all the confidence of a man who’s taken the same trip dozens of times. “The food you can buy on board is fine, but the bento shop in Narita station is much better.”

“You didn’t get one for yourself?” asks Lúcio, sitting up and peering into the bag.

“Eating is,” Genji pauses, “complicated. And for me, unnecessary.”

Mercy had taken pains to preserve as many of his functions as she was able to with the remains of his body– he’d kept his sense of taste and a portion of his stomach. Outside of that, eating involves having to remove and clean several filters, as well as an internal flush of his system. He’d occasionally gone to the trouble when nostalgia for the act of eating began to distract him, but recently he hadn’t bothered at all.

Lúcio gives him a look, extracts a pair of disposable chopsticks from the bag and doesn’t break eye contact as he snaps them apart. Genji stares serenely back, mildly amused as Lúcio fumbles the utensils for a second before setting them painstakingly and perfectly between his fingers. Then he clicks them a few times at Genji, flashing a victorious grin. “You were waiting to see if I’d be able to use these, weren’t you? Weren’t you?”

“There is a fork in the bag as well,” Genji tells him. “But I’m happy you will have no trouble with these.”

“My best friend was half Japanese, y'know?” Pausing slightly, Lúcio quickly turns his attention back to his lunch, prying the lid off the plastic box and shifting a few pieces of fried fish around to inspect the contents under the top layer. A slight crease appears between his eyebrows. “I used to spend so much time at his place.”

'Was’?

Genji pulls up a dossier on his HUD, scrolling through it as he scans for a familiar page. “Takahiro da Costa?”

Lúcio freezes. That’s as good as any verbal confirmation.

“His name caught my attention when I read your file.” An entry on the list of fatalities in the clash against Vishkar, da Costa had died of electrocution while disabling a security checkpoint on their escape from the facility; he’d succeeded, but the gate had been rigged to overload itself upon tampering. Even with a huge population of Japanese Brazilians, very few were involved in Lúcio’s revolution much less at the fore of it. “I didn’t know he was your friend.”

Lúcio’s voice goes flat, his eyes narrowed. If he’d seemed relatively harmless before, now the man who’d led his community to drive a multinational corporation out of Brazil is on display, warning Genji to tread carefully. “You read my file?”

He doesn’t rise to the bait, deflecting the challenge in Lúcio’s voice with a simple, “Yes.”

“I have a file?”

“Are you surprised?”

Lúcio deflates. “They were all my friends, man. Taka’s dad died when we were five.” Lúcio nudges a piece of pickled radish around in its corner compartment before he lightly pushes the entire meal away from himself. Not out of disgust; more like faded interest. “I’m still in touch with his ma, but we haven’t spoken since I left Brazil the first time. She’s doing alright, though.”

Something in Lúcio’s tone seems off. Too controlled to be natural, too raw for da Costa to have passed into fond memory so long after his death. Genji leans back in his seat, idly wondering if he shouldn’t have brought this up until after Lúcio had finished eating. “Were you two involved?”

“He married this girl we knew.” Lúcio keeps his voice deliberately lighthearted, but his expression seems more pained than anything to Genji. “Two daughters. Gabi’s taking care of his mom. I try to help out but we brasileiros are proud, you know?”

A non-answer like that tells him more than Lúcio probably intended to reveal, but Genji only makes a soft affirmative sound and crosses his arms over his chest. “It seems I have ruined your appetite,” he murmurs. “You have my apologies.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Lúcio shoots back, laughing suddenly as he picks up the chopsticks again and uses them to pull his lunch back toward himself, “you kinda remind me of him, actually. Serious and cool, always had a knife on him. Little bit paranoid. No offense.”

“None taken.” They do seem to have quite a bit in common– up to and including their apparently common decision to trust Lúcio against their usual inclinations. Letting the conversation drop, Genji leans back and watches Lúcio eat instead, the bento’s contents disappearing quickly in an uncommonly methodical order.

“So,” Lúcio says when he finishes his lunch, packing the debris into the plastic bag it’d arrived in and then slumping over his cleared table, eyes half-lidded in drowsy satisfaction, “what’s in my file?”

“Nothing incriminating,” Genji tells him, “that the world does not already know.”

Lúcio yawns, looking somewhat reassured but also too tired to think on it much longer. After a 17-hour flight in coach (even his team couldn’t secure first-class tickets on such short notice), sleeping fitfully an hour or so at a time, the train could qualify as legitimately comfortable.

“You should sleep,” Genji says, ripping a complimentary felt pillow out of its plastic wrapping and passing it over. “I will wake you when we arrive.”

After muttering a cursory thanks, Lúcio wedges the pillow between his head and the window next to him. “Do you sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Are you gonna?”

“I have found that the best solution to jetlag,” Genji says, “is to stay awake until the hour you would normally sleep. You are dead on your feet for a day, but adjust very quickly to the new timezone.”

Eyes already closed, Lúcio yawns again, slumped bonelessly over his armrest. “Overwatch wisdom, huh?”

“You are new to traveling abroad?”

“I’ve been touring for a couple months but it’s all still pretty new to me, yeah.”

Genji dials his volume down in steps. “How is it?”

Easy-to-answer questions about familiar places and people, idle conversation to lull someone running on fumes to sleep. Zenyatta needs far less rest than even a cybernetics-enhanced human, and Genji had always felt unbearably rude falling asleep mid-conversation. He’d eventually figured out that putting him to sleep was exactly what Zenyatta was doing, on top of inducing pleasant memories to offset the inevitable nightmares, at least for a while.

“Like a dream,” Lúcio sighs. “I miss Rio, though.”

“What is Brazil like?”

“Weather’s warm. Food’s good. Sometimes I’d jam on the corner with a couple friends and the kids would come out and dance with us.”

“You dance?”

Lúcio cracks his eyes open, incredulous. “I’m Brazilian.”

“Ah.”

Settling back down, Lúcio buries his nose against the pillow and grins, revealing a glimpse of teeth as the corners of his lips pull back. “You ever hear of capoeira?”

“The martial art.”

“Well it’s dance, too.” An almost unintelligible mutter: “I’ll show you sometime.”

Genji leans back as Lúcio’s breathing slows and evens out, tension seeping from his body; whatever constant, irrepressible fount of energy that keeps him moving at every second stills, at least for the moment.

* * *

Lúcio’s room is enormous; a Western-style suite in Hanamura’s one hotel. A desk sits in one corner, large and stately but modern, for office work. An entertainment center is set up in another, TV and a long couch dominating the area. A king-sized bed takes up the center of the room, some distance away from the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. Lúcio pulls the curtains shut before Genji does, peering through the crack between heavy fabric to look out on the mid-afternoon cityscape.

Genji had never actually stayed in the VIP suite, though the building’s meeting rooms and banquet halls aren’t foreign to him, having been dragged to fundraisers as a child by his father. He makes a sweep of the room, checking for bugs (destroying three) and cameras (disabling one). Lúcio watches him methodically comb through the cushions of the couch, staying deliberately out of his way until he dumps the scraps of several recording devices into a trashcan.

“The Shimada Group owns this hotel,” he explains when he notices Lúcio staring. “They specialize in racketeering and arms trade, but have dealt in international blackmail and extortion as well.”

“Uh,” Lúcio says.

“Overwatch managed to dismantle many operations, but could not dissolve the group altogether.”

“Oh, well.” Lúcio glances into the garbage can, easily picking out the microphone parts and a tiny mirror, still semi-attached to an aperture. “Thanks.”

Genji pulls a bug of his own out of a slot in his armor, moving toward a vent half-hidden behind a dresser– one he’d removed the camera from earlier. A source of information on the Shimadas’ high-profile guests would come in handy for future operations; it would also catch anyone coming in to replace the devices. “You should have your security team sweep all your rooms, going forward. This one does not seem to be compromised any longer, but do not reveal sensitive information if you can avoid it here.”

Lúcio nods, then flings himself onto the king-sized bed, the mattress’s surface dipping under his weight. “This might be weird,” he mumbles, face against the sheets, “but I gotta change my legs. I was gonna do it before the flight, but there wasn’t time.”

Genji makes a dismissive 'go ahead’ gesture, politely turning away and settling down on the couch. He catches the reflection in the television’s screen, though– a faint impression of Lúcio rolling around on his bed and wriggling out of what Genji had believed were simply his giant robotic pants, then pulling on a pair of shorts.

“I thought they were augmentations,” Genji comments as he turns around, one arm slung over the back of the couch cushions as he idly regards the new set of legs, metal beginning just above the knees. “I did not know it was a prosthesis.”

“Getting into Vishkar was easy,” says Lúcio, his tone dry as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and tests his weight on them, “getting out, not so much.”

A faint sense of loathing for Vishkar rises in the back of Genji’s mind, but he files it away for later. Motioning at the skates Lúcio had left leaning against the bedside table, he comments, “They are impressive.”

“Thanks! Made them myself.” Lúcio’s expression softens when he points at the legs he’s wearing now, a relatively more standard set of prosthetics. Instead of skates they end in actual feet, the frames of his calves worn and scratched, leading up to what look to Genji like custom sockets to accommodate his specialized knees. “These ones were a gift from my whole favela, so I bring them everywhere. Easier to sleep in, too.”

“I see.”

“What about you?”

Genji taps his chestplate. “The armor is removable, but I switch out my other parts only when they begin to wear down. It is not very pleasant.”

“Yeah, maintenance is a pain.” Lúcio yawns, arms stretching above his head as he flops backwards, legs popping as his back makes contact with his mattress. “You do it all yourself?”

Changing parts is excruciating, with how many of his nerves are tied directly to his robotic components. In Overwatch Angela would knock him out with an anesthetic and perform routine maintenance when needed, but Genji had never liked losing so many hours of a day. For years after he’d shut down all communication lines in his visor to do the work himself, wide awake with his teeth clamped on a piece of leather or cloth. After meeting Zenyatta he’d had a harmony orb to dull the pain, and a soothing voice in his ear. “I did for some time,” Genji answers carefully, “but it is much easier with another set of hands.”

Lúcio laughs, soft and understanding. “I hear that.”

“Do you want to sleep?”

“So much,” Lúcio groans. “But let’s kill some time until night, I wanna try what you said.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Ramen or sushi?”

Turning over and curling his legs in toward his chest, Lúcio kicks up and vaults himself out of bed, landing on his feet. He grabs his headset and wallet off the table, but leaves everything else. “Ramen, definitely. Sushi after the concert?”

Genji stands. “I know just the place.”

* * *

“I forgot,” Lúcio mutters, head in his hands, a steaming bowl of miso ramen in front of him, “you don’t eat. I’m so sorry, man.”

Genji laughs, low and calm. “No need to apologize. Eat, and tell me if you like it.”

With that blessing, Lúcio digs in. He takes a second to investigate every component of the dish first, prodding at pieces of fishcake and slices of pork belly, moving the noodles around and curling them around his chopsticks, then sampling the soup. Genji half-watches Lúcio eat, the rest of his attention on the doors and windows of the little ramen shop he’d brought them to. He had loved this Rikimaru, often showing up after a night of partying, alone, to scarf down an entire bowl of ramen before returning to the estate. The old lady who owned the shop in his youth has long retired, her son taking the helm.

“It’s good,” Lúcio tells him around a mouthful of noodles, his lips shiny from broth, cheeks bulging, half his bowl already empty. Swallowing, then chugging the entire glass of water in front of him, “You don’t mind if we stick around so I can get another one?”

Genji turns to the teen behind the counter, who had until then been watching Lúcio with a dazed, star-struck expression on his face. 「He says your ramen is delicious,」 Genji tells him, 「and we would like another helping of noodles.」

The boy brings out Lúcio’s kaedama, setting it reverently in front of him before he turns to Genji and says something, fidgeting with the string of his apron.

“Kazuo-kun says that it is on the house,” Genji translates, “and he would like you to take a picture with him and sign it for the shop.”

“Nooo problem,” Lúcio drawls, reaching for the second bowl of noodles and moving the entire portion into his half-drunk soup.

“Also,” Genji says, eyes flickering to the window as he glimpses a familiar face moving with the crowd outside, “he would like you to try all the house recipes, if it is not too much trouble.”

“Lot to ask,” Lúcio answers with a wink, “but you’ve convinced me. Tell him I’m at his mercy.”

Relaying the message, Genji stands. “I will be back soon,” he murmurs close to Lúcio’s ear, one hand brushing his shoulder as he ducks outside and around the corner, into a small alcove. The alley is dim but clean, a brick wall closing off its other end as Genji approaches, checking for other exits.

Something hits the ground behind him– usually enough to send him scrambling for cover with a weapon in hand, but this time he turns, slowly. 「Brother.」

「I used to drag you out of that shop in the middle of the night,」 Hanzo says, voice rough, but he hasn’t drawn his bow so Genji keeps his hands in plain sight and doesn’t reach for his shuriken. 「Why are you in Hanamura?」

「For the same reason you are. The Shimada Group is mobilizing, and I intend to find out why.」

「By eating lunch with Santos? Are you insane?」

「Talon is targeting him,」 Genji says simply, no intention of explaining further. When he takes a closer look at Hanzo, he pauses. 「Your legs… I was wondering about those. By the time you resurfaced after leaving the clan, they were already like this.」

「Yes,」 Hanzo says, 「you did this.」

Unable to bring himself to apologize, Genji snorts. 「I have no memory of it.」

「It is my punishment.」 Sounding torn between amusement and offense, Hanzo raps his knee dismissively. 「I shoulder it willingly.」

A long pause.

Genji rolls his shoulders, shifting uncomfortably in place. He’s never liked enclosed spaces, much less dead ends with the exit blocked. He’s never liked arguing with Hanzo, either, both of them too willful to back down against each other. Still. 「Don’t speak of prosthetics as punishment, brother.」 He inhales, pulling back his shoulders. 「They simply are, and they help us.」

Hanzo bares his teeth, scuffing his foot along the concrete, the spiked claws kicking up sparks. 「Isn’t it punishment, that we’ll never walk barefoot over grass ever again? Along a beach? We used to step so quietly that we could startle a cat from behind.」

Letting a long silence stand between them, Genji frowns. He looks down at his hands, flexing his fingers before he turns his gaze back to Hanzo. 「What am I being punished for, then?」

「Genji–」

「My youth?」 His shoulder vents open, steam hissing out as agitation roughens his voice. 「Wanting to distance myself from a life of deceit and lies? For mourning our father the only way I knew how? Don’t pretend this life is equal to the wrongs I committed as a young man, brother. If this is punishment, just how many lifetimes of evil am I paying for?」

Hanzo actually seems to consider his words, eyes narrowing as he looks at the ground. 「If I don’t believe this, how can I believe in a just world?」

「Learn that no world is balanced on justice, Hanzo.」 Genji steps closer, until he’s within paces of his brother. 「You know this, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it.」

「How can _you_  believe this,」 Hanzo snarls back, advancing on Genji, his shoulders squared, 「yet claim to be at peace?」

Genji doesn’t flinch but his head ducks, some unruly nostalgia twisting his heart in his chest at the proximity. 「Because the world still needs justice,」 he says, reaching for Hanzo’s shoulder. 「You could join me.」

「In Overwatch?」

「Yes.」

With a scoff, Hanzo swats Genji’s hand away. 「Overwatch was disbanded for corruption and internal conflict.」

Genji cocks his head to the side, silently waiting for Hanzo’s words to sink into his own mind. 「Yes,」 he says when Hanzo blinks, realization and embarrassment dawning on his face, 「it was, for the same reasons the Shimada clan fell into decline. Yet you still seek to revive it.」

「I seek to restore honor to our name.」

「That was not the kind of action I was suggesting.」

「You would _save_ a world like this?」 Hanzo flings his arm out, motioning toward Shimada Castle. 「Better to rule it, and change it how you want.」

「The ones I care for still live in this world,」 Genji answers quietly, 「and I have no wish to hold such power over them. That includes you, brother.」

「You haven’t changed, Genji. No matter how much you try to pretend otherwise.」 Hanzo turns to leave, lips pulling back into another snarl as Genji ducks in front of him, blocking his way.

「If you can’t see it, it’s because you don’t want to.」

「Talon has been communicating with the board of the Shimada Group.」 Shouldering him out of the way, Hanzo stalks to the alley entrance and pauses, one hand on a corner of brick wall. 「I would see our family revived, but not at the cost of working with these people. The well is deep, Genji. See to it that you and your little frog survive leaving it.」

Some unnamed and best-left-uninvestigated irritation flares in Genji’s mind and he calls over his shoulder, 「Don’t act like you’re suddenly concerned for my survival, _brother_.」

Silence.

Halfway through several deep, calming breaths, the sound of a step echoes behind him and Genji whirls on the new arrival, his hand on his shortsword.

“Did I interrupt something?” Lúcio glances behind him as he approaches, walking with the slight sway of someone who’s eaten his weight in ramen. “Are you alright?”

Genji closes his eyes, his shoulders slumping. “Everything is fine.”

“Who was that?”

“No one important.”

“C'mon, Genji.” The inflection in Lúcio’s voice changes from slight concern to something sharper, more smug, as he beckons for Genji to get out of the alley and start moving. “You read my _file_.”

That makes Genji smile, visor dimming slightly as he falls into step with Lúcio, two of them heading back toward the hotel. “You are not going to let that go, are you?”

“Nah.”

“That was… my brother, Hanzo.”

 _No one important_ , Lúcio mouths, looking mildly disgusted. When Genji says nothing, his stride even and unwavering, Lúcio looks at him, bumping him slightly with an elbow. “He’s not sticking around?”

Even filtered through his mask, Genji manages to sound dejected. “I suppose not.”

Knowing better than to press further down this line of questioning, Lúcio nods, head bopping slightly to some tune no doubt streaming into his headset. “Wanna play some Street Fighter? Think I saw a console set up in the room.”

Genji distractedly pulls up his video feed of the suite, reeling the film back to the moment the door shut behind them and setting it to play at quadruple speed. “I was more of a Tekken player.”

“Great, then I’ll just win every game. I’m alright with that.”

Momentarily pulled away from his video at the challenge in Lúcio’s voice, Genji huffs, leaping at the distraction offered to him. “I would like to see you try.”

* * *

Sometime around midnight, after a shower and about four straight hours of gaming, Lúcio had dragged himself away from the couch and into bed, too tired to play well and not accustomed enough to running on almost no sleep to compete with ninja reflexes, even on a game he ostensibly knows better. Genji’d shut down the console, plugged his charger into an outlet and knocked out on the sofa, both swords within reach and sensors on, the rest of his system powered down but not completely shut off.

A proximity alert trips at five in the morning, grey dawn seeping in around the heavy curtains drawn over the windows, night-vision kicking in almost immediately as his visors flicker on and adjust to the darkness. Genji clicks his shortsword out of its sheathe and grips the hilt, muscles coiled to spring.

Lúcio nearly loses his nose when he pops his face over the back of the couch, bleary-eyed and concerned.

“I almost killed you,” Genji informs him as he sheathes his wakizashi. “What are you doing?”

“You know,” Lúcio gripes, apparently still too groggy to care how much danger he was just in, “for someone so quiet in the day, you move around a lot when you’re asleep.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Nah, I saw you tossing around when I got up to,” Lúcio points at the bathroom, a yawn cutting off the rest of his sentence. He idly adjusts the long, wide strip of an old t-shirt he’d tied his hair back in, tugging lightly on the locs sticking out the back to align them into some kind of order after having slept on them.

Sitting up, Genji moves to the side when Lúcio vaults himself onto the couch next to him, legs and arms splayed out as he sinks into the cushions. Genji sighs, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He rarely remembers his dreams but doesn’t doubt that he’d been moving around; Zenyatta used to tell him the same thing. “I have not had trouble sleeping for some time, now.”

Lúcio stares at him, eyes narrowed, the man practically swimming in a pair of oversized gym shorts. In the darkness he seems smaller: no vest, backpack, skates or headset to bulk up his appearance past the slim, hard torso. He doesn’t bother keeping his grin up either, expression probing and serious. “What happened between you and your brother?”

“He gave me information on Talon’s movements in Hanamura.” Genji looks away and stands, moving to the windows to peer out through a crack in the curtains. “It seems they are trying to recruit the Shimada clan, and you may be in danger again.”

“I meant before,” Lúcio insists. “We’ll come back to that second thing.”

Genji says nothing, standing thoughtfully for a few long seconds.

“C'mon, you read my file.”

Turning, annoyance evident even in his body language but his voice tinged with amusement, Genji sighs. “You get to use that one more time before it loses effectiveness.”

“I’ll choose wisely!”

“I am… Shimada Genji.” He waits for the name to register on Lúcio’s face, surprise and disbelief appearing on it. Genji steels himself and continues, “My brother and I were both due to inherit leadership of the group, but as a younger man I craved freedom, not power. I spent my days in the city, avoiding responsibility and running from the expectations placed on me. After our father passed, he could no longer shield me and my brother from the influence of the family elders, and they demanded that Hanzo bring me in line or, failing that, kill me. He nearly succeeded, but Dr. Ziegler saved my life, and I joined Overwatch.”

Lúcio’s expression morphs in slow motion to barely-concealed rage, earlier encounter appearing to play out in his mind as he thinks back to the man who had stormed out of the alley he’d found Genji in. “Your brother did that to you?”

“The blame does not entirely lie at his feet.” Years ago Genji had felt very differently and numerous parts of him still rebel at the idea of forgiving Hanzo. But he’d worked hard to bring his will into alignment, and allowing old bitterness to surface would only throw his hard-won peace back into disarray. “We were raised to place duty above all things, and he took to the lessons more seriously than I did.”

Going back to the earlier point, Lúcio crosses his arms protectively over his chest and asks, “So what did you guys talk about?”

“The two of us arrived earlier than Talon expected, so they are not yet ready to attempt another hit. We should prepare ourselves, regardless.”

“Oh. That’s it?”

“I also told him to join Overwatch, if possible.” Genji’s shoulders droop. “He is skilled, and disciplined. My brother would be an incredible asset to the team, if he chooses to cooperate. He was always stronger than me.”

“Man,” Lúcio makes a face, halfway between incredulity and disgust, “you’re pretty generous to the guy who tried to kill you.”

“I miss him,” Genji murmurs. Then, putting an end to this particular conversation, he shakes off whatever cloudy mood had descended on him and joins Lúcio on the couch again. “That’s all.”

Taking the hint, Lúcio kicks his feet up, crossing them over the coffee table in front of him and hooking his arms over the back of the couch, trying to look nonchalant. “So you’re recruiting for Overwatch? Zenyatta’s in, too?”

“I felt that he would be safer under Overwatch’s protection, now that he is no longer affiliated with the Shambali.”

“Uh,” Lúcio says, pointing at himself. “ _So you’re recruiting for Overwatch?_ ”

That gets a laugh, light and sweet. “If,” Genji says, his voice warm, “after your tour, you are open to the idea of working with us, we would be honored to have you on the team as well, Lúcio. I was going to ask before I left for Gibraltar, as you seem very busy.”

Lúcio pumps his fist into the air, teeth flashing in the dark. “WOO! Hanamura’s my last stop, y'know!”

“I will inform Winston.” Standing, Genji offers Lúcio a hand and pulls him to his feet. “You should go back to sleep.”

“Hey.” Before Lúcio lets go, he squeezes hard enough to bruise a regular person, setting off a few pressure alerts on Genji’s HUD. Looking straight into his visor, Lúcio steps closer and asks, “Are you gonna be alright? Tudo bem?”

“Go back to sleep, Lúcio.” The knuckles of Genji’s free hand brush across Lúcio’s cheek, touch so light and careful that he can barely feel it. “And, thank you.”


	3. Chapter 3

 

After a week, Lúcio's firmly integrated himself into Hanamura's local community. High school kids crowd around him on their way home, shopkeepers and convenience store owners slip extra goods into his bag at checkout, he's begun to live primarily on a diet of Rikimaru ramen and 7-Eleven sandwiches and oden. Genji quickly comes to the conclusion that the man knows far more Japanese than he lets on, proficient enough to wish students luck on their exams and make juvenile puns to cashiers.

When the press finally starts rolling into town following his original tour schedule, Lúcio spends more time in the suite and significantly less time walking around the neighborhood. Genji, for his part, mostly skulks around Shimada Castle tracking the group's movements. When he isn't there he's avoiding children and shopkeepers asking after Lúcio, who had abruptly begun to limit his local romps to once or twice a week. Genji takes over shopping for food, promising to bring back as many different things as he thinks Lúcio might try.

(Nattou gets a weak _Noooooo_ , Lúcio's hands clutched over his nose; takoyaki receives a much warmer welcome, as do most of the streetfoods. He's tried something like ten of a dozen Kit-Kat flavors and probably eaten his weight in department store sushi. Once in a while, Genji actually remembers to buy fruit.)

Incidentally, Genji also builds up a nice stock of liquor in the suite, Lúcio being easily bored and, at some point in his life, a bartender. Alcohol tastes more like paint thinner than anything else to Genji, but they've spent more than a few nights playing cards while Lúcio and his concert crew knock back sake cocktails, many of them finally joining Lúcio in Hanamura after cleanup in Numbani.

Some two weeks into their stay, Lúcio's accumulated enough players for a serious game of Hold'em so Genji retreats to the roof of the building after the usual formalities. Lúcio had opened a channel between his headset and Genji's visor for emergency communications, though they haven't used it at all since the test exchange. Lúcio's feed is open, though, showing his pocket threes while his light engineer deals the flop.

Talon has been conspicuously absent but security around the Shimada estate has increased, not that that deters Genji; no hired gun knows the place better than the man who'd spent his childhood exploring every corner of the place. By all accounts, they're gearing up to kidnap Lúcio, and are woefully unprepared to do so. It would put the attempt in Numbani in a different context as well-- why disrupt the concert, when Talon could just snipe him instead?

(One of the few times Genji ever remembers being afraid of and disgusted by Hanzo before the incident was when he'd made an offhand comment about the expediency of assassination over kidnappings. Sure, there's more to gain from kidnapping, torture and interrogating, but at what cost? Genji had laughed it off at the time, but the idea that he might also someday need to do cost-benefit analysis on how best to hurt civilians for the sake of their family had made him sick and uneasy. Hanzo had noticed.)

Genji pulls up his surveillance feed of the suite. Lúcio's back is to the camera, the man himself slouched, his skates crossed at the ankles under his seat to avoid bumping anyone else's feet out from under the table. The light engineer folds; sound guy nudges a stack of chips into the center of the table and Lúcio calls. The other two players are out of sight, but Genji ignores them, zooming in on the window.

Then he creeps to the edge of the building, glancing over.

> lucio  
> get everyone out of the room

Lúcio sets down the cards in his hand and he gives a thumbs up.

Swinging himself over the concrete guard along the edge of the roof, Genji drops down to the balcony of the top floor, a penthouse just above Lúcio's suite, and slices through a cord anchored to the rail. Before he can take care of any others, the glass door behind him shatters in a burst of gunfire, and Genji dives off the platform onto the porch below, passing two more men in harnesses and rappelling gear on his way down the side of the building.

Lúcio's on his feet, alone in the room, when Genji lands on his terrace. He slides the door open to let Genji in, catches sight of two operatives dressed in black coming after him, and quickly slides the door shut. Already armed with his sonic amplifier, he takes an extra second to lock the door before following Genji out of the suite and into the hallway.

When the window shatters behind them, Lúcio winces. "Maybe I shoulda just left that open."

Genji pulls him into the elevator without responding, hitting the button to take them to the lobby and pulling the emergency stop latch halfway between the twelfth and eleventh floors. Lúcio sees the camera first, disabling it with a single round from his amp while Genji pops open the vent on top of the compartment and lifts himself through it. Lúcio follows with no trouble, other than a brief struggle to fit his skates through the somewhat narrow opening.

"What now?" Lúcio asks, standing unsteadily on the elevator roof, one hand grasping the cables coming out the top, ready to let go in case it begins to move.

"I counted about twelve men on this operation," Genji says, scanning the column for vents. "They are not ready to move out, but Talon must have pressured them. An uncoordinated attack like this, I can handle on my own."

He idly considers that Hanzo would never have allowed the Shimadagumi to cave to that kind of outside coercion; years ago, Genji would have felt indignation on behalf of the group, if only for his lingering attachment to it. More recently it only amuses him how disorganized and weak they've become. Even in the days just after his brother disappeared, the discipline and efficiency they'd operated with made it nearly impossible to infiltrate or properly sabotage; too many contingencies in place, gangsters trained so well they might as well have been an army. That fell apart as they exhausted all the directives Hanzo left in place, all of them growing outdated as time dragged on and there was no one to revise them.

"I'll move out with you," Lúcio volunteers, checking his amplifier for ammo. "I have my gear."

"They are after you. We will find a place for you to lie low."

"No."

"Lúcio."

"No one is dying 'cause of me. That's it. End of story." At Genji's painfully obvious hesitation, Lúcio rolls forward, almost bumping against him. "You know I'll be able to help. I'm coming with you, and you can't stop me."

Genji sighs, turning his attention away from the vent he'd had his eye on. "Then I will have to figure something else out."

Before they can continue, the twelfth-floor elevator doors slide open, a shape looming up in the square of light. Genji practically throws Lúcio behind him, drawing his sword.

"So," Hanzo growls, "you really are as foolish as I thought you were."

Lúcio almost laughs at the annoyed _ugh_  Genji lets out under his breath. He slips around to hop out into the hallway next to Hanzo instead, turning to watch Genji pull himself up with infinitely more grace and economy of movement.

"Brother."

"You tried this when you were fourteen," Hanzo says, "and it didn't work then, either."

A little petulant, Genji snaps, "It still took you three hours to find me."

With no small amount of regret (how often does one get to witness Genji being childish and petty?), Lúcio interrupts them. "So what's the plan?"

"I go to the source," Hanzo answers simply, turning to face him, broad shoulders drawing back. He's shorter than Genji, but much stockier; also, still taller than Lúcio. "Your companions have been taken hostage on the fifth floor, and I assume you would rather not see them dead."

"We will resolve that situation," Genji says, effortlessly (and begrudgingly) falling in line with his brother's plan. "And I will join you later. Lúcio--"

"Yeah," says Lúcio, sounding somewhat dazed at the news as he tosses Hanzo an earpiece. "Use that to stay in touch."

Hanzo pops the device into his ear, cocking his head slightly while Lúcio sends him a few test beeps. "Is this working?" he asks, tapping it a few times.

"Yeah," Lúcio answers, putting his hand to his headset and adjusting a dial, "good to go. We'll see you on the flipside!"

* * *

 

"There are three hostages," Genji reports, swinging himself back inside through a window, "and five yakuza. Not high level, but armed."

They've set up in the room adjacent, Lúcio picking the lock on the door while Genji incapacitates the guards outside. "We can bust in through the front," Lúcio suggests, making agitated rounds along the edge of the room, wearing the carpet down all along his track. "The door'll just open, they won't expect that."

"The window would be a bigger surprise," says Genji, "it might give us more time to move your friends out of the line of fire."

Laughing, Lúcio skids to a stop and tosses his amp between his hands. He gives Genji a knowing look, grinning wide. "Then we're all figured out, yeah?"

Genji moves for the window. "I will wait on your signal."

Once on his own, Lúcio flips the cardkey to his room out of a compartment inside his skates and hits it with a blast from his amplifier. Before it has a chance to recalibrate, he ducks out and slides it into next-door room's key slot, grasping the handle in anticipation of the moment the card resets. It's the same method he'd used to break into Vishkar-- with far less adjustment needed, considering the difference in levels of security.

> hey hey hey  
> ready when you are

From the floor above, Genji lets go of the thin ledge he'd climbed to, kicking away from the building for a better look inside the room. Two hostages spot him, their mouths dropping open before he launches three shuriken, cracking the window. The boosters in his legs keep him suspended for the half-second it takes for another set in his back to kick in and send him straight through the glass. Two gangsters go down with the first strike, and the other three retreat to the end of the room away from Lúcio's crew.

At the sound of glass shattering, Lúcio shoulders open the door, his amp raised and ready. It takes him no time at all to take in the room, Genji in a defensive stance in front of three hostages tied and sitting on the floor, three other men in suits aiming guns at the cyborg. Lúcio pulls the second trigger on his weapon, sending all three of the gangsters stumbling into a corner, their shots going wide. Genji takes the opportunity to close the distance between them and himself, knocking one out with a well-placed elbow and the others with the hilt of his shortsword.

Lúcio skates forward, swiping a knife from one of the groaning lumps on the floor and using it to cut through his crew's restraints. Genji investigates the rest of the room, stamping on one yakuza's head when he begins to stir.

"We're gonna get out of this building," Lúcio snaps, corralling his people (all of them surprisingly calm about the situation) and whipping out his phone to contact the rest of his crew. "I'll scatter us through Hanamura; get everyone to blend in until the heat dies down. These guys aren't as good as Vishkar, so we shouldn't have any problems."

Ah. Of course.

Genji taps into Hanzo's feed, preparing to ask after his status when the sound of gunfire rings through his channel. Fighting past his faint incredulity at the sheer amount of firearms somehow present in his hometown, Genji quickly leaves the room and lowers his voice. 「Where are you?」

「How much time will it take for you to reach the top floor?」

「Three minutes.」

「Corporate building.」 Hanzo sounds breathless and annoyed, but not hurt. 「Fifteenth floor. Can you make the jump?」

「I'm coming.」

Before Genji can duck inside, Lúcio's already at the door. "I'll be at the arcade," he says, tapping his headset. "When you two wrap up, you can find me there. Unless you want me to help out."

"Coordinate your people from the ground." Genji looks at him, carefully scanning Lúcio for signs of injury before he nods and moves for the end of the hall. "I will join you later."

Something flashes on his HUD as the elevator doors shut, Lúcio waving from down the hall.

> open the channel if things go downhill  
> i'm with you ok?

* * *

 

Hanzo is easy to spot; Genji doesn't even bother counting floors. The level with all its lights and windows blown out and blue streaks of light bouncing around it seems to be the obvious choice, and he deliberately positions himself at the end of a hall opposite to where Hanzo's hunkered down behind a stack of supplies.

「Here I thought you had a plan,」 Genji tells him, amusement in his voice as a low growl from Hanzo's end reverberates in his ears. 「Are you hurt?」

「There was more security than I anticipated.」 Genji may have learned to let the Shimada clan go, but Hanzo clearly hasn't. 「It's a waste of resources no one with half a brain would approve of.」

「Then we should be glad that the one in charge does not even possess half a brain,」 Genji shoots back, moving into Hanzo's line of sight behind the dozen or so yakuza firing at him. They seem wary, too afraid to approach and engage hand-to-hand, but scattering when Hanzo launches a volley of arrows. Conveniently, all their attention is trained on the archer, leaving Genji plenty of room to start picking them off. When the remaining gangsters finally notice their dwindling numbers and start focusing on Genji, Hanzo's retrieved most of his spent arrows and he has the corridor cleared in under a minute.

「Shimada brothers pincer technique,」 Genji quips, trotting up to Hanzo and flanking him as they pause in front of a private staircase. 「It's good to fight alongside you again.」

「You didn't have to come.」 Hanzo fingers his bowstring, his shoulders drawn tight. 「The others could still be targeting Santos.」

「If I hadn't come,」 Genji says easily, his voice pitched low and quiet, 「what would have happened to you? Lúcio can take care of himself, but it seems my wayward older brother has a death wish.」

「My life is not worth more than any of theirs.」

「No. But I only have one brother, and his life holds more weight to me. Without him, I am lost.」

Brows furrowing, Hanzo looks into Genji's visor and scoffs, though it's awkward and lacking any real conviction. So different from the person Genji had known, who never seemed to do anything without purpose. 「Only stories, Genji.」

「Some stories teach a lesson.」

Hanzo's eyes narrow.

「Revenge takes only the one who seeks it.」 Genji's shoulders lift in a shrug, a gesture he'd picked up hanging around American girls in his younger years. It used to drive Hanzo to distraction, the impropriety of that movement especially around their father and his business associates. 「The only thing I want is my brother back.」

「We can't go back to the way we were, Genji.」

「We don't need to.」

「No apology can undo what I did,」 Hanzo mumbles, looking away, 「and I do not seek forgiveness. I don't deserve it.」

「You don't need to seek it. I've freely given it.」

「What if you're making a mistake?」

Genji sighs, 「I never said I trusted you.」 That gets Hanzo's attention, a calculating, severe expression on his face. Continuing, Genji claps him on the shoulder and keeps his tone light, almost laughing as he says, 「Duty and obligation cloud your judgment and you stop at nothing to do what you think you must, regardless of whether or not it's right.」

「Isn't it right to abide by duty and honor?」

「Pride isn't honor.」

In stark contrast to the subject matter, Hanzo seems to smile. 「That may be so for you, but for me they're one and the same.」

「I don't hate that about you, brother.」 Bringing his face close, Genji cocks his head to the side, quick and birdlike. 「As the sparrow seeks freedom, so the wolf seeks order in his pack. They do not need to be exclusive. We... could both be dragons again.」

Hanzo leans away, abruptly serious again. 「I see you slept through biology.」

「Actually, I did.」

「We have work to do.」

「Yes, yes, I'm right behind you.」 Falling back into step behind his brother, Genji pokes him lightly in the small of his back. 「Think of the good we could do together in Overwatch.」

Hanzo only glares over his shoulder, resolutely barreling up the steps and shouldering the door open. 「Save it. And don't speak.」

The clan elders still believe Genji to be dead, of course, and Hanzo is still technically the master of the Shimada house. Genji nods, taking up in the corner of the room as his visors adjust to the sudden light and Hanzo strides in, right up to the desk. The man behind it is lean, well-groomed, obvious even to Genji a sneering figurehead. He blanches when he sees Hanzo, scrambling to his feet and immediately plastering on an ingratiating smile.

Genji tunes him out, tapping into Lúcio's channel while Hanzo gives the man a tongue-lashing on par with the lectures he used to force Genji to sit through.

Lúcio notices him first, distracted from the beginning stages of a run through Super Siege Mode 3. He sets down the plastic gun immediately, wandering away from the machine to type a message out to Genji.

> all good?

> hanzo is calling off the alliance with talon. you should be safe in hanamura while you are here.

> he can do that????????

Genji patches Lúcio into his feed.

> i can barely understand half of that, they're talking too fast  
> is he saying i should cancel the concert?

> he says hanamura's economic stability will be at risk if you were injured here and hanamura gains a lawless reputation  
> talon clearly does not care about the shimadagumi's objectives, and the group should have known better than to cooperate  
> also, your concert would benefit the local community greatly, which in turn improves the shimadagumi's standing among residents  
> if the shimadas move against you again, he says that he will personally see to it that the one responsible will very soon resemble a human pincushion  
> they will reimburse you for the suite and provide you with a new room free of charge for the duration of your stay  
> so long as you refer only to talon when questioned by the press

> your bro is scary  
> i wanna die of embarrassment just hearing this smackdown  
> ninja yakuza brothers

> cyborg ninja yakuza brothers  
> will you have a problem with the conditions? it is not too late to negotiate

> nah i lie to the press all the time  
> for you guys, anytime

> we hope to keep the shimadagumi defanged but active enough to prevent a power vacuum

> yeah, i've seen how this works  
> smaller scale tho  
> street corner fights, not like  
> terrorist orgs

> ah yes  
> the street corner fight with vishkar

Lúcio laughs, his video feed blurring as he shakes his head.

> i'll see you soon  
> thanks for this

> no, it was our responsibility from the start  
> they are finishing, i will see you later

Hanzo leads the way out of the office, his strides long and sure, regality rolling off of him in waves as he basks in the sensation of having once again become the lord he was groomed to be. Genji only just resists rolling his eyes, but once they're clear of the building and on a busy street he stops Hanzo with a hand on his bare shoulder. 「Why are you helping him?」

「He's your friend, isn't he?」

「Don't pretend you do this for my sake, brother. I know you better than that.」

Hanzo snorts. He doesn't even try to deny Genji's accusation, gentle as it was. 「The idea of Talon getting its filthy claws in the Shimadagumi makes me sick.」

「You would be better off cutting ties with this place.」

That gets him a long stare, Hanzo's eyes placid and contemplative as the city moves past them. Reaching forward, he sets one callused hand on top of Genji's head and mimes ruffling his hair, pads of his fingers catching slightly on the crease in his headgear. 「Maybe our paths will cross again, Genji. Until then... be well.」

Genji had always loved the flashiness and mysticism of smoke; Hanzo, ever the practical warrior, liked to blend effortlessly into a crowd and disappear. He somehow manages to do it, even dressed in as painfully old-fashioned a way as he is. Genji doesn't bother chasing after him, or looking for him, content to retreat to the hotel, crossing the street and entering through the front. He returns to Lúcio's suite, picking up the duffel bags of their gear and raiding the mini-fridge for whatever he can carry.

> new room is 308, i have retrieved our belongings  
> do you want me to meet you at the arcade?

> no no no im coming back now

* * *

 

Room 308 is drastically smaller than the VIP suite but Lúcio doesn't seem to mind as he rolls inside and investigates the place. Genji had already swept it for bugs and found none, probably a result of Lúcio now being Hanzo's personal guest, of sorts. "Disembodied legs," Lúcio says cheerfully, seeing his prosthetics laid out on the bed, "good to see you guys."

"If you are missing anything," Genji says, "I can get it from the suite. You should..."

"Stay here?"

"Yes."

"Y'know, I'm actually gonna take you up on that." Lúcio dives for his bag, divesting himself of the backpack, gloves, armband and headset connected to his amplifier before he goes for the latches on his skates. His eyes are wide, movements stiff and containing none of his usual easy swagger. "Not that anything's missing."

Genji watches Lúcio shuck off his skates, turning away while he peels off the compression shorts he wears under them and sockets his nighttime prosthetics in place. It's a familiar ritual by now, something he does every day when he's prepared to not leave the room again. Genji goes to the fridge, pulling out some sort of egg sandwich and a bottle of tea. "Eat something," he says as he passes Lúcio the sandwich, twisting the cap off the bottle. "Drink something, and sleep. Call off your appointments tomorrow."

"Genji?"

Awkwardly, Genji sets the open bottle of tea onto the bedside table and turns off the room light, leaving only a dim lamp on. "I think you should rest tomorrow. After today, you will need it."

Lúcio washes down a mouthful of sandwich with his tea and eyes the fridge, a tired, joking grin on his face. "Since I'm not doing anything tomorrow, you got anything stronger in there?"

Toeing the fridge door open again, Genji reaches inside and extracts a clear glass bottle he'd reclaimed from the wreckage of the VIP suite. "Rum?"

"Cachaça! We got any cups or are we drinking out of plastic?" Lúcio ducks into the bathroom, emerging with two tall glasses and settling on the couch by the window. He pats the seat next to him. "If we had some lime and sugar, I could make a mean caipirinha."

"Next time," Genji says, joining him and twisting off the bottle cap.

Finally safe and out of danger, Lúcio's hands start to shake. He can barely hold the cup steady until Genji takes his wrist, fills his glass halfway and guides his hand to his mouth. After the first few sips Lúcio seems to unwind, enough that he can set the cup down on the table with no problem. Then he looks at Genji, flashing him a wry smile. "Not gonna make me drink alone, are you?"

Genji turns away, popping the latches holding his visor in place and removing the guard over his mouth. Lúcio slides over a glass with a finger of cachaça on the bottom, making no attempt to catch a look at his face while Genji throws back the shot and replaces his visor, leaving the inner piece of his helmet on the couch between them.

"Can you even drink?" Lúcio asks, shaking his head to clear it, suddenly looking very sheepish. "Is that gonna mess up your system?"

"I cannot get drunk, but ethanol converts easily to fuel. Alcohol is not a problem."

After a minute, Lúcio inspects the guard, metal and plastic designed to fit neatly over the bottom half of Genji's face. "What's that thing? It goes over your mouth?"

"And nose." Hanzo's dragons had wreaked as much havoc on his lungs as they had the rest of his body; Genji has no intention of actually explaining the logistics behind the myriad of cybernetics, devices and aides keeping him alive, but Lúcio's smart enough to work it out himself. "An air filter."

"D'you have trouble breathing without it?"

"If I leave it off for too long."

Lúcio nods, refilling his cup and sipping slowly from it. He says nothing for a long time, looking thoughtfully out of the window. The view can't beat his top-floor panorama of Hanamura's cityscape, on a level with street lights and store signs, but it's relaxing in its own way. Neon reflects off Genji's armor, the cyborg himself leaning back into the cushions, arms hooked over the back of the couch. He looks tense, as if expecting another attack at any minute, but Lúcio's crashing from the earlier rush of adrenaline, suddenly bone-tired.

"Hey, Genji." Lúcio waits for Genji to look at him. "You seeing anyone?"

Genji stays unnaturally still, his voice flat. "Is that a joke?"

"No."

"No. And you?"

"Nah."

Settling back into the sofa, Genji crosses his arms over his chest. "Hmm."

"What?"

"You never answered my question," Genji murmurs, suddenly leaning forward, elbows on his knees, "when I asked if you and da Costa were involved."

"You really noticed that, huh?" Lúcio sighs, resigning himself to the conversation. He'd been the one to initiate awkward personal questions, after all. "We messed around for a while when we were younger. Taka didn't think it'd last, so we never got serious."

"It's good that you remained friends."

Lúcio's mouth twists, brows drawing together. "I asked him, you know? I said, I'm gonna get Vishkar out of Rio, and I want you with me. We'll make this place safe for your girls, and Brasil will be beautiful again. He didn't even hesitate. What the hell? Who does that?"

Genji says nothing but he doesn't look away, the thin green line of his visor steadily trained on Lúcio's face.

"I was crazy about that guy, even when we were kids." Lúcio clasps his hand over the tattoo on his shoulder, thumb sliding along its outline. "This one-- Taka's design. He always said I was like a frog, jumping everywhere. 'Kaeru', right?"

"It is also the word for--"

"'To go home'," Lúcio interrupts, a brittle laugh in the back of the throat. He hesitates for a moment, as if weighing whether or not he even wants to continue, but decides to press on. "Yeah. Think that's why it never worked out. He loved Brasil so much. Never wanted to leave, hated traveling. He said he'd drag me down if we stayed together." Lúcio takes on an accent and lowers his pitch, a smooth, lilting rhythm contrasting with the usual explosive energy in his voice. " _You've always wanted to be somewhere else, Lúcio, but maybe you'll look at that frog and think of home, and you'll miss us so much you'll visit._ "

"I think," says Genji, softly, "you meant more to him than you know."

"Doesn't matter now, does it?" Not for the first time, Lúcio looks tiny. He shrinks into the cushions, shoulders drawing up around his neck, and refuses to look at Genji. "Actually, when we met, I was-- I hoped you were him. I know it's stupid but I thought, imagine if Taka were alive, and he was the one under there. It'll be just like old times."

"I'm sorry, Lúcio. I am not him."

"I know." Turning a nervous (if brilliant) smile on Genji, Lúcio reaches across the gap between them and very seriously puts his hand on Genji's shoulder. "But I'm glad I met you, Genji, you're really somethin' else."

Something warm swells in Genji’s chest, mixed with the same sense of bitter disappointment that had earlier saturated Lúcio’s voice. "I am glad to have met you as well."

"You wanna go out?"

Even though he'd been expecting it, Genji's mouth goes dry. The thought of ruining what he'd built with Lúcio-- the trust, their easy rapport, a solid foundation for whatever kind of future cooperation they'd have in Overwatch-- Genji sighs, pulling Lúcio's hand off his shoulder and squeezing gently. "Ask again when you are not drunk and lonely."

Lúcio shakes Genji off, about to haul himself to his feet. "Yeah, I should sleep." Voice wavering, he manages a laugh. "Sorry. I sound pretty pathetic right now."

"Stop." Before he can stand, Genji drags him back by the elbow and pins him to the couch, visor inches from his face. The light behind his mask brightens and the cool matte pads of his fingers grip Lúcio's feverish cheeks, turning his face forward before he can look away. "It's not pathetic to grieve for loved ones, Lúcio. You have never been pathetic to me. Do you understand?"

Lúcio's eyes close, his jaw flexing as he clenches his teeth.

Releasing his face, Genji tugs Lúcio to his feet by his upper arms and steadies him, one hand on the small of his back. "We will have this conversation when you are sober," he says decisively, guiding Lúcio toward the bed and tipping him into it with a light poke to his forehead, "if you remember it."

* * *

 

Lúcio wakes up twice before morning, once to a glass of water on the table beside him, which he drains, and the second time to stagger into the bathroom and relieve himself. On both occasions Genji's silhouette sits motionless in front of the window, barely reacting to the noise as Lúcio shuffles back into bed.

When he blinks properly awake, the clock reads 10:03, numbers distorted behind another glass of water. A packet of single-dose acetaminophen sits next to the water and the curtains are drawn, blocking the light to allow him a few extra hours of rest. He's alone in the room, which could mean a million things he resolutely decides not to dwell on, so Lúcio dutifully downs the painkillers, drains the glass, then drags himself to the bathroom to brush the acrid taste of alcohol out of his mouth, temples throbbing.

Then he slowly shuffles to the couch, lying down on it while the headache subsides.

It'll be another hour before he jerks awake to the sound of someone opening the door, Genji stepping inside with a plastic bag slung over his arm. "I hope you are hungry," he says, setting it down on the table. At Lúcio's enthusiastic nod, he extracts a small vial of some medicinal herb drink and lobs it across the room. "But drink this first."

"What is it?"

"It will help with the nausea."

Lúcio sniffs the drink, then makes a face and downs it. "You've done this before, huh?"

Tossing him a bottle of tea and a sandwich next, Genji sounds somewhat nostalgic when he answers, "I have had my share of hangovers."

Lúcio pauses in ripping the plastic off his sandwich, spitting a mouthful of cellophane onto the table next to the cups they'd used the night before. "You're gonna tell me all about it, right?"

A shrug. "Some other time."

"And once I'm done eating," Lúcio says, watching Genji organize a haul of chips, Pretz and the grilled potato-flavored Kit-Kats they'd been trawling Hanamura for on the table in front of the mirror, "we can talk."


	4. Chapter 4

Genji stays in the other half of the room, as if consciously keeping the bed between himself and Lúcio. He’d hoped that Lúcio would forget all about it or decide not to pursue the subject matter once he was sober, but they’ve been hurtling toward this interaction for the last few weeks and part of Genji is just happy to get it over with. “So,” he says, when Lúcio finishes eating, “you want to talk?”

“I made it pretty awkward,” Lúcio mutters, brushing crumbs out of his lap and standing up, “asking you out after I just finished telling you about my ex.”

Years ago, Genji would probably have pointed out that Lúcio had asked him out after drunkenly _pining_  for his dead friend, but he’s matured since then. Canting his head but keeping his distance, he says instead, “It wasn’t so bad.”

“Okay,” Lúcio sighs, chucking balled-up plastic wrap at Genji’s head (perfectly deflected into the trashcan), “you don’t have to be so polite, I know it was bad. But honestly I like you, Genji. Not ‘cause you remind me of anyone else. Just you.”

“Lúcio, I didn’t realize–”

A wince. “That I was into guys?”

“No, that was obvious from the beginning. That,” Genji coughs, clearly trying to suppress a laugh, “you had a type.”

“Alright, look.” Unable to actually deny the observation, Lúcio rolls his shoulders and bounces on the balls of his feet, energized after his meal and restless in the face of Genji’s intense scrutiny. “I’m as surprised as you are. It’s been going on for a while, though.”

 _Persistent,_ Genji thinks, trying to ignore the churning in a stomach that theoretically shouldn’t even be able to do that anymore. “I am happy you feel that way about me,” he answers slowly, “and very flattered. But you should reconsider.”

Whatever way Lúcio expected the conversation to go, it wasn’t this. He frowns, apparently not discouraged but now also insatiably curious. “Why? If you’re not interested, I think you’d just say so.”

Hesitation reads in every sharp line of Genji’s frame, a look Lúcio decides doesn’t work at all for someone usually so proud and dangerous. “There are many things I can no longer do,” Genji says after a beat, reaching behind his head and pressing the latches to release his visor. Then he pops out the filter over his nose and mouth, pausing a second to collect himself before pulling it away. “I have accepted what I am, I don’t ask anyone else to do the same.”

Lúcio’s brows draw together, mouth dropping open slightly in surprise. Puckered, raised scars line Genji’s face; the skin is weathered and wrinkled in patches across his nose and cheeks, as if it had been badly burned. One part of his upper lip pulls away along a jagged scar, permanently baring a sliver of teeth. Lúcio’s first inclination is to reach, but his hand drops back to his side before it makes contact.

He steps closer, straightens, all five-foot-three-inches of him, the crown of his head just barely clearing Genji’s chin. Quietly he says, “You’ve been through a lot.”

“Not more than anyone else,” Genji demurs, replacing his mouthguard as his gaze slides to the floor, Lúcio’s expression so open and sympathetic that it actually hurts to look at him, “though perhaps it is more visible. We can forget this conversation happened.”

Lúcio lunges forward, movement sudden enough to trigger a twitch for shuriken but not more than that, his fingers wrapping around Genji’s wrist and pulling it down before the visor clips back into place. “Wait.” He inhales deeply, moving near enough that his body heat registers in the sensors of Genji’s chest armor. “No. Hell no. I want to give it a shot.”

As if spooked by the proximity, Genji starts to move away, stepping back. “I don’t want your pity, Lúcio.”

“Me? Pity you?” Lúcio shakes his head, half laughing as he gestures at himself. “C'mon, let’s be real here. You’re always great out there, and I’m just scrambling around trying not to get killed.”

“You were the target,” Genji points out, “survival itself is impressive.”

“Vote of confidence. Love it.”

“What do you propose?”

“Look, I am into all of you. There’s nothing about,” Lúcio gestures pointedly at all of him, “this that I don’t like. I’m so into you it’s kind of freaking me out and if you sort of feel the same way, I think we could, maybe, date? A date? I mean we’re in Hanamura, and if you wanna chill a while before you bounce, I would be seriously down with that.”

“Lúcio.”

“Yeah?”

Genji’s shoulder vents spiral open and he looks up, averting his eyes. “Yes. I would like that.”

He feels a soft pressure on the filter, Lúcio’s fingers resting gently on the last bit of gear obstructing his face. “Can I?”

Genji puts his hand over Lúcio’s, hesitates a moment and then repositions his fingers, guiding them to a latch along his jaw and pressing down.

When it comes off, Lúcio sets the filter next to the visor, taking a long moment just to drink in Genji’s face– sharp cheekbones, the arch of his nose; calm brown eyes the exact opposite of what Lúcio had always imagined after watching him mow down Talon agents. “I dunno how you feel about all this,” he breathes, looking so carefully that Genji can practically feel his gaze sliding over the remains of his skin, “but I love looking at you.”

Genji ducks his head, brushing his lips over Lúcio’s before he steps back and straightens, quickly replacing his mask and visor. A soft hiss escapes from his shoulder vents as they close. “You have no plans today?”

“If you wanna stay here and do that for the rest of the day,” Lúcio quips, sounding a little breathless, “I wouldn’t mind.”

If Genji had ever doubted that Mercy still left some part of him human, the frantic beating of his heart in his chest would set those fears to rest. He can’t help but laugh– nervous and brief– before moving for the window. “Let us enjoy this town while we can. I have not been to the arcade since my return.”

Now it’s Lúcio’s turn to laugh, clear and bright. He moves for his skates, sitting on the edge of the bed while he removes his prosthetics. “That’s been bugging you, huh?”

“Someone has been challenging my Tekken high score. And…”

“Hm?”

Genji shakes his head. “Nothing.”

* * *

Half a block away from the arcade, Lúcio squints down the street. “What’s with that crowd?” Without waiting for an answer, he kicks off the sidewalk, skates gripping the wall of the building beside them, and rolls up to the entrance as people throw themselves out of his way. The high school kids in the crowd greet him, quickly opening a path for him into the game center.

Genji moves through the crowd easily, slipping like water between pebbles. By the time he reaches Lúcio they’ve hit a cluster of spectators around the Tekken machine too stubborn to move aside, so Genji calls over their heads instead. “If you run out of coins, Song-kun, I have some right here.”

Whoever’s at the machine looks up, abandoning her current game as a lost cause to retort, “You can call me 'Hana-chan’, you know! It’s waaaaay cuter!”

Hana elbows a few people out of her way as she approaches to greet him, freezing in her tracks when the spectators part enough to reveal Lúcio. Their jaws simultaneously drop.

“Song Hana,” Genji says, nodding to her, “and Lúcio Correia dos Santos. I believe you know each other.”

“Oh man,” Lúcio says, expression breaking into a grin, “D.Va in the flesh! We’ve only talked over social media.”

“I keep planning to come see a concert,” Hana gripes, playing at being upset, “but your schedule always conflicts with mine! I’m even leaving Japan before your Hanamura gig. You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“It’s a conspiracy to keep us apart,” Lúcio sighs, nodding sagely as he extends his arms and she falls dramatically into them. He gives her a hug before letting go, both of them laughing as they’re promptly swarmed by teenagers demanding selfies. While they’re busy, Genji wanders over to the machine Hana had vacated, hissing through his teeth as the scoreboard comes up.

1\. HANA  
2\. GENG  
3\. GENG  
4\. HANA  
5\. GENG

“Now you have to call me Hana-chan,” D.Va says, finally extricating herself from a crowd still losing its collective mind over Lúcio. “I beat your score!”

“That was never on the table,” Genji retorts. Three years ago, he’d met her in Hanamura, taking a break from her training to unwind at the arcade in the middle of the night. She’d recognized him immediately when he’d ducked in, having been something of an Overwatch fanatic as a child. “Besides,” Genji sighs, “you wouldn’t call me 'oppa’ when you couldn’t beat _my_  score, Song-kun.”

“'Cause you’re more of a 'ahjussi’ anyway.” D.Va laughs at his offended silence, pursing her lips as she mockingly drawls, “Don’t cling to your youth, sunbae. It’s not cool at all.”

“Whoa,” Lúcio says, rolling up to them as the crowd behind him disperses, “harsh. What are we talking about?”

Hana cracks her gum and jerks her thumb in Genji’s direction. “I beat his high score.”

“A professional gamer took three years to beat my Tekken XII high score,” Genji snipes back, sounding utterly calm in the way that Lúcio’s come to recognize as his my-only-other-option-is-immaturity voice. “I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be flattered!” D.Va points dramatically at him. “Be consumed with despair!”

In the meantime, Lúcio’s ducked around Genji, inspecting the Tekken XII console. He turns slightly, poking Genji in the ribs to get his attention. “What’s 'geng’?”

If a cyborg whose face is completely obscured could look embarrassed, Genji manages it. He’d come up with the tag as an eighteen-year-old and he was deeply proud of his cleverness then, but the sheer number of people who didn’t Get It have dulled the appeal. “It’s 'Genji’,” he explains, jabbing his finger at the screen while Hana makes faces at him, “Gen-G.”

“Cute,” Lúcio comments, not entirely sure if Genji hears him as the ninja puts D.Va in a gentle, if inescapable, headlock.

“Right now,” Hana snarls, struggling in his grip, “sunbae, I challenge you to a game of Tekken XII!”

Genji releases her, his voice almost dangerously casual. “Sure.”

* * *

In some desperate attempt to distract Genji from the game, D.Va looks sideways at him, her fingers flying across the buttons, and sneers. “You main Ling Xiaoyu? Why?”

“I,” Genji says, serene even as his avatar onscreen unleashes a series of quick punches on Hana’s and retreats to the other end of the screen, “liked the idea of beating people into submission with a small teenaged girl.” He doesn’t mention that gameplay as Xiaoyu is also rather intuitive, relying largely on speed and evasion rather than the power behind her attacks. “Why Hwoarang?”

“It’s more fun when you beat all of these badasses with some dork who dyes his hair unnatural colors.”

Xiaoyu takes a kick to the face when Genji forgets to dodge.

D.Va loses all but one round, the circle of spectators that had scattered earlier gathered back around them. Genji sighs as he steps away from the console, dropping back to stand next to Lúcio. “My man!” Lúcio crows, clapping him on the shoulder and shaking him, “I can’t beLIEVE you beat D.Va!”

“How?!” Hana demands, rounding on Genji. “No way your APM is better than mine.”

“Song-kun telegraphs every move,” Genji says, mimicking her movements, the gestures eerily exact. “Like players who think moving their shoulders with the controller will make them better at Mario Kart. It may help in a MEKA or in Starcraft… but this is an arcade.”

“That’s not fair,” Hana fumes, her cheeks puffing out. She almost never loses, but on the rare occasions she doesn’t completely dominate a tournament, she’s usually graceful about it. “You’re a ninja!”

“Being a ninja has nothing to do with it.”

“Does too.”

Lúcio coughs into a fist, looking somewhat sheepish at taking D.Va’s side even though he hadn’t removed his hand from Genji’s shoulder since he put it there. “It kinda does.”

“I was also hoping for a chance to redeem myself after my previous losses.”

“What’d you lose in?”

Genji preoccupies himself with inspecting the reload mechanism in his arm. “Starcraft.”

“You played Starcraft against one of the top-ranked players in the world?” Lúcio turns to D.Va, trying not to laugh. “Hana, how come you never bring it up? I’d rub it in his face all the time. Fact, it’d be on every one of my soc-media accounts.”

D.Va crosses her arms behind her head, ponytail lashing with an arrogant tilt of her head as she leads the way to a booth set up along the edge of the gaming area. “I get secondhand embarrassed just thinking about that match.”

Laughing, Lúcio lets go of Genji only to bump him with his shoulder as they sit. “That bad, huh?”

Hana stares at them for nearly a minute while the conversation moves on, Lúcio chattering happily while Genji only gives the occasional reply, but his visor stays turned toward Lúcio’s face. She doesn’t remember Genji having ever been particularly tactile, but he’s got his upper arm pressed casually to Lúcio’s, tolerantly allowing himself to be grabbed and shaken when the other man’s excitement tops out. Leaning forward with her elbows on the table, Hana pats Genji’s hand a few times. “So are you two dating or something?”

They spring apart like magnets with the wrong ends touching. Lúcio gives a quick _Nah!_  and Genji, matter-of-fact as ever, tells her, “I am simply part of his security detail until he arrives in Gibraltar.”

“Hm,” Hana snorts, deciding to let the subject drop for both their sakes, “I thought Hanamura was the last stop on your tour.”

“There was an Overwatch recall,” Genji clarifies, back in his element. “He is joining the team.”

“Yeah, one small problem. You know, PETRAS Act?”

“Apparently it’s pretty unofficial,” says Lúcio, turning his million-watt smile on Genji, “but I wanna see if I can help. These guys are still doing a lot of good.”

“Well if you ever need a MEKA pilot,” Hana offers, pausing to crack her gum, “I bet we could arrange some training drills. For a price.”

Lúcio humors her, waggling his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” she chirps, “I get a private concert.”

“I will totally put one on for the crew. You didn’t even have to ask.” After a moment, he jabs Genji in the side. “Did you know we were both in Hanamura? That’s why you wanted to come here?”

Genji had spent several nights in the company of Lúcio and his crew while they streamed from D.Va’s channel, both her tournaments and her MEKA operations. From the way they’d talked about her, he’d figured that Lúcio was a fan. “I wanted to be sure you could meet,” he answers, “since Song-kun was in the area.”

“I messaged sunbae this morning when I knocked him out of number one.” Hana flashes a victory sign at Genji’s audible sigh. “Didn’t know he was around, though. I was gonna try to wipe him off the board completely.”

“My record has stood for over a decade. It is about time someone beat it.”

D.Va already knows his history with the place, being awake in the middle of the night apparently enough to loosen his tongue, so Lúcio’s the one who repeats, “A decade?”

“You do not want to know how much time I spent here.”

“For real.”

D.Va laughs, a sort of mean-girl titter that raises goosebumps on Lúcio’s arms. If he finds her just the tiniest bit intimidating, he resolutely doesn’t show it. She looks at Genji next, a teasing grin on her face. “Sunbae must’ve had a lot of game if he could drag girls to the arcade all the time and still score.”

“With green hair,” Genji adds, unable to resist.

“ _Green hair_ ,” Lúcio repeats.

“It was my favorite color.” Mercy may have chosen to install the green bio-lights based on his hair color at the time. If asked, Genji would have told her that was a _horrible idea_  because hair grows, but changing out LEDs on cybernetic armor is a nightmare. The time had passed, though, and he’s accepted the augmentations.

“Pink is still the best,” Hana says decisively, popping the collar on her t-shirt, a loose-fitting top with a pink bunny on its front.

Trying not to be too obvious in front of D.Va, Lúcio deliberately doesn’t point out his own affinity for green when he asks, “And now?”

Genji looks at him, head tilting. “Still is.”

* * *

They spend a good five hours in the arcade before Hana picks up a call and takes off. After his first few rounds, Genji had stepped back and mostly encouraged Lúcio while D.Va methodically kicked his ass at every game he tried his hand at. Genji wanders off once in a while, as if to spare Lúcio the embarrassment, and always returns with a soft drink or a toy he’d won from one of the claw machines. Consolation prizes.

Lúcio thinks grudgingly as he adjusts the small army of plush frogs tucked in his belt that Genji probably got so good at claw machines winning toys for the girls he apparently used to date _all the time_.

He forgets to be annoyed about it when they leave the arcade, Genji leading the way straight to a pizza shop. Lúcio browses the menu, marveling occasionally at the sheer number of options available to them. In the end he pushes the laminated sheet across the table. “You know what’s good, right? What’d you used to get?”

Genji taps an entry. “I always ordered this one,” he says, “but I don’t think you will.”

“Spam on pizza?”

“It drove Hanzo crazy, but our father would always indulge me.”

“Well,” Lúcio laughs, “it is pretty gross.”

“It was mostly out of spite,” Genji says, trying recover his image of someone who had, as far as Lúcio was concerned, pretty good taste, “but it grew on me. I would not eat it anymore, even if I could.”

Trying to extend the idle chat, Lúcio leans back in his seat, a half-smile on his face. “Why?”

A pause.

“No,” Genji dismisses the subject as casually as he’s able to, but he can hear his voice catch, and Lúcio’s ears don’t let it slide. “Never mind.”

Expression flattening suddenly to neutral, Lúcio wrinkles his nose. “It has something to do with him, doesn’t it?”

Hearing the undercurrent of dislike in Lúcio’s voice both puts Genji on edge and touches him, a bit, that someone would be angry on his behalf. But he’d decided to forgive and move on, which would admittedly be easier if Hanzo would stick around long enough to properly reconcile, but Genji’s sure that he’d come around at his own pace.  Trying to force Hanzo to do anything was always like trying to redirect a river with a spoon. “Let’s order,” Genji sighs. “We do not need to discuss this here.”

Unexpectedly, Lúcio stands his ground. Crossing his arms on the table, he leans forward, eyes serious. “I don’t want to let it go, Genji. I mean, you can tell me to back off and I will, but even if we weren’t,” he makes a vague 'all of this’ gesture, “I’d still want to know, 'cause you’re someone I– care about, alright? I don’t care if it ruins the mood.”

“I used to wonder,” Genji starts, and pauses. He’d never bothered to discuss his thoughts and feelings with anyone other than Zenyatta; hard facts were easy to deal with, impersonal and irrefutable. His feelings were often irrational, mired in depressing what-ifs even after years of conditioning himself to move beyond the past. But Lúcio doesn’t interrupt and the unease that always simmers in the back of his mind when he leaves Nepal settles, just a bit. “I used to wonder,” Genji says softly, “that if I had not spent so much time intentionally making my brother angry, he might have reconsidered trying to kill me.”

Lúcio’s on his feet immediately, looking even more distressed than Genji feels. “Jeez, that’s– we can leave, we don’t have to be here.”

 _Oops_.

“Order your dinner, Lúcio.” Genji reaches across the table, holding him by the wrist before he can roll away. Anchoring Lúcio until he sits again, Genji gives his arm a gentle squeeze before letting go. “I would rather make new memories in this place than dwell on old ones.”

Lúcio orders, his occasional displeased looks at Genji making it clear that he’s only doing so under duress. The young woman who takes his order, conversely, gets nothing but a cheery grin, a few sentences of halting (if accurate) Japanese. She skips away, looking ecstatic at having had a conversation with an international superstar.

After a few minutes of waiting for their order, Genji sitting in contemplative silence, Lúcio suddenly straightens up, leaning over the table. “You don’t have to blame yourself for what he did to you,” he says, clearly still stewing over their previous conversation, practically vibrating with the conviction of his words. “It wasn’t your fault. Nothing would’ve changed.”

Slightly taken aback, Genji has to suppress a laugh. “I acknowledge the role I played in it,” he answers, trying to distance himself enough to see the root of Lúcio’s turmoil over his situation. “I feel regret, but do not blame myself. As you shouldn’t, for the casualties of your rebellion.”

“That’s different,” he answers immediately, brows furrowing. “Those people died because of me. If I’d planned better–”

Genji cuts him off. “Vishkar is an organization larger in scope and power than you could possibly imagine. Your companions died for a just cause, against odds that should logically have taken many more.”

“That doesn’t make it less my fault.”

Genji scans Lúcio’s face, wondering how he’d missed the unease and pain in his wide, expressive eyes for so long. “I cannot absolve you of your own guilt,” he murmurs. That’s a journey Lúcio will have to take for himself, though Genji finds himself partial to the idea of being there for it. “Regardless of how you feel about yourself, many see you as a hero.”

“What about you?”

“I see a man who has suffered greatly and fought well for honorable causes.” All hard fact. Genji tries to infuse as much sincerity as he can into his voice, though he hadn’t experimented much with modulating his tone since Mercy replaced his larynx with an artificial voicebox. “You have no obligation to heal and inspire others, but you do. Hero doesn’t begin to describe you.”

“Tracer was right.” Folding his arms over the table and burying his face in them, Lúcio groans, “You’re a huge flatterer.”

Smile completely apparent in his voice, “I have spent too much of my life not saying the things I truly felt.” Pausing to flick a packet of sugar at the top of Lúcio’s head, Genji continues, “I do not want to make the same mistake with the people who are in my life now.”

Lúcio peeks up at him, revealing one eye behind the elbow he’d hidden the rest of his face behind. “I’m in your life?”

“If you want to be.”

The conversation lightens up significantly once Lúcio’s pizza arrives and he realizes just how much of his dark mood could be attributed to hunger. _Hangry,_  Genji thinks, involuntarily. _Lúcio gets hangry. How cute._

“So,” Lúcio mumbles after polishing off his third slice, “girls, huh? Only girls?”

So that had been bothering him too. Genji nods once in acknowledgement. “Hanzo and I never had the freedom to explore,” he explains. “He was expected to produce an heir, and I was already pushing my luck.”

“So,” Lúcio says, “you’ve never dated a guy.”

“Even when I was interested, I never acted upon it.” Not that he’d been left wanting for attention or company, though thinking back on it even Genji’s not sure how he’d managed to get women to be around him with the green dye job. Many of them did know of his connection to the Shimadagumi, though.

“But after?”

“I went straight from that life,” Genji answers, tapping his chest plate, “to this one. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Nah,” Lúcio says, waving him off, “I’m just. Surprised.”

“Disappointed?”

“Uh, I got the cyborg ninja playboy to switch teams.” Lúcio bites his bottom lip, very obviously raking his eyes over Genji’s chest and arms. “I’m the opposite of disappointed, my friend.”

Genji slouches in his seat, shoulders shaking as his head rolls back.

“Genji?” Lúcio says, back on his feet, “are you alr– you’re laughing.”

“I’m glad,” Genji manages to say between small, helpless hitches in his voice, wishing for a second that Lúcio could see the expression on his face, “that you are here with me, Lúcio.”

Lúcio turns his face away from the server when she brings them their check and the leftover pizza, packaged neatly. He waits for her to retreat before looking at Genji again, absolutely certain that the cyborg can sense the way his face had heated up. “W-well, back at you.”

Genji leaves cash– exact change, so no one would chase after them trying to return five yen. “Do you want to go back?”

“To the hotel room? Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’d be down for that.”

* * *

Lúcio collapses face-first into bed when they return, a few plush frogs coming loose from his belt and scattering while Genji stows his leftovers in the fridge. “Good date?” he asks, voice muffled against the sheets. “That was pretty good, right?”

“Seemed like fun,” Genji says, as if he weren’t the other party on it. “You could have paid more attention to your date,” he teases. “Conversation could use some work.”

“He was real nice about it, though.” Lúcio flips onto his back, arching off the bed to stretch before he sits up and begins shimmying out of his skates and equipment. “Got me these frogs and everything while I was losing my mind over D.Va. Did you know he knows D.Va?”

“Impressive,” Genji says, leaning on the dresser. “Lock him down.”

Lúcio looks at him, expression desperately fond and just a bit exasperated. “Come here,” he sighs, socketing his prosthetics in place and pulling on the shorts Genji lobs to him, “you’re always on the couch.” Gathering up the plush frogs, he arranges them on the bedside table. “These guys can make room.”

Hesitation back with a vengeance, Genji hovers where he stands. Lúcio can feel the _want_  rolling off him in waves but he crosses his arms over his chest and hangs back, visors dimming slightly as he seems to withdraw again. “I… imagine this is not very comfortable to be next to.”

“Can you take the armor off?”

Technically yes, but Genji had only ever felt at ease enough to remove his armor while he was at a base or while he was in Nepal. Watchpoints because there would be an entire barracks of agents who could deal with whatever emergency hit them until he could get equipped again, and Nepal because practically no one visited Nepal and the Shambali monks are deceptively dangerous for all their fragility. “I would rather not,” he says. Besides, he usually wears clothes out of combat mode and Lúcio has nothing that would fit him.

Lúcio groans, rolling to one side and leaving ample space on the other. “Come here anyway. It’s a big bed.” Expression softening, he mimes taking off a visor. “You can leave that on, too, if you don’t wanna take it off. Today’s been a lot, I get it.”

Genji goes, settling on the edge of the bed like a nervous bird. Lúcio groans again, scooting closer to wedge himself up against the cyborg’s side, practically pushing him off until Genji gives in and physically shifts him over to make room, both of them settling in the center, backs propped up against their own stacks of pillows.

“If I knew you were this cuddly,” Lúcio quips as Genji drapes an arm over his shoulders and pulls him close, “I would’ve done this way sooner.”

“ _I’m_  cuddly?” Genji retorts, though he doesn’t dispute it beyond that. Zenyatta touches him often and easily, a hand to his back or his shoulder, his neck, the crown of his head. He’d spent years avoiding contact altogether before that, tolerating it only briefly from Tracer and her overenthusiastic greetings, or when Mercy insisted on a checkup.

As a child he’d been downright clingy, usually to Hanzo; once he started school, he’d had an entire circle of friends to glom to and by university he’d always have a girl (or two) on his arm. Genji had always reveled in touch and attention. In the new body he’d rejected all forms of it.

“Is this all right?” he asks, trying to keep the harder, sharper bits of his armor from jabbing Lúcio anywhere. The vents on his shoulders open, letting out a soft hiss, nearly inaudible if it weren’t for the proximity to Lúcio’s ears.

“’S nice, Genji.” Looking up at him, Lúcio flashes a mischievous grin, as if he’s trapped him right where he wants him. “So,” he drawls, “when’d you decide you’d say yes to a date? 'Cause when I asked, it sounded like you uh, you considered it. 'Ask me when you’re sober’, and all.”

“When Talon attacked your concert,” Genji answers after a moment, looking away, “and you protected my master.”

Lúcio’s mouth drops open in surprise, his voice soft. “That was the day we met.”

“You didn’t know him, but you put your life on the line to protect someone very important to me.” Lúcio’s ears pick up a change in timbre, a tenderness to Genji’s voice that he’d never heard before, and he has to suppress a pang of envy. Genji continues, this time with such clear admiration that Lúcio can’t even bring himself to continue being sore about Zenyatta. “An omnic, no less. It was not a date that I had in mind, but I wanted to do what I could for you in return. And you?”

“Uh, so after Talon attacked my concert– I’m not copying you, I swear!” Lúcio wonders for a second whether the flash of Genji’s visor means pleasure or something else, and he presses on. “But right before the chopper touched down, you were all loopy and Zenyatta put his hand on your head, I was thinking that you looked just like a kitten. With the ears and everything.” Laughing sheepishly, Lúcio scratches his neck just over the graceful curve of bone visible under the collar of his shirt, “I was on an adrenaline high so I’m thinking, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, I can’t believe that’s the same guy that just took down like, twenty assassins. Which, by the way, was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Genji’s armor thrums, probably reacting to some internal mechanism. “It was only nine,” he says.

“Alright,” Lúcio snorts, pushing himself up to plant a kiss on Genji’s visor, over his cheek, “gatinho, you don’t have to be so modest. _Only_  nine. Pffft.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bumped the rating to M for implications rather than anything really explicit, but yeah.

A vibration under Lúcio’s pillow jars him awake, the screen of his phone displaying 5:05 in the morning with an incoming text from D.Va. Rolling over to answer the message, he squashes a private thrill that Genji hasn't woken up yet, still reclined against the headboard as he was when Lúcio fell asleep, all of the lights in his armor switched off. Bluish-grey light from behind half-drawn curtains softens his angles, but his complete stillness unnerves Lúcio enough that he sits up, squeezing Genji's knee.

"Genji," he hisses as the LEDs flicker on. "Wake up. Did you know D.Va's getting a film?"

The visor flashes dimly, Genji's voice groggy as he answers, "I heard it stalled last year."

"I can't believe you keep up with Starcraft movie news," Lúcio says as he shuffles closer, settling himself under Genji's arm, "but it's back in production and she asked me to write the music for the opening theme."

Genji, nocturnal (as ninjas are wont to be) but in the habit of waking early, takes the conversation completely in stride. "Song-kun spammed me about it when the news first came out," he explains, yawning. "She moves fast."

Lúcio has no idea what being an only child is like, having grown up surrounded by an entire village of cousins, uncles, aunts and extended family, but he imagines if a nineteen-year-old has to spam a cyborg she'd met in the middle of the night at an arcade once with news as cool as 'starring in her own film', she's probably pretty lonely. He shifts, throwing an arm across Genji's chest and a leg over his hip. "Collaboration with Hana Song..."

"Are you going to do it?"

Moving again, this time pressing his back to Genji's side, Lúcio nods. "Hell yeah."

"Will you have to stay in Japan?"

"Nah," says Lúcio, flipping over to face Genji, his head resting on a hard metal shoulder piece, "we'll just shoot the files back and forth. I know you wanna get to Gibraltar."

Genji sighs, "Stop moving."

Squirming, Lúcio tells him, "Once I get comfortable."

"Fine."

Genji reaches across, hooks one hand behind Lúcio’s knee and draws it across his own hip again. He easily shifts them so Lúcio ends up on his stomach across Genji's torso, their legs comfortably interlaced. Lúcio folds his arms across Genji's chest and rests his chin on them, fitting easily against the dips and grooves of the hard mechanical body under him. "Oh," he says, sounding surprised, "that works."

Genji huffs, his hands settling lightly on Lúcio’s waist. "Comfortable?"

"Yeah, actually. You have a lot of practice or something?"

"Yes."

Grinning, Lúcio turns his head to lay his cheek across the back of his wrist. "From when you were a ho."

"You are benefitting from it," Genji points out, shifting one hand to splay across the small of Lúcio’s back and bringing the other up to poke him on the forehead.

Lúcio languishes for a while in the morning half-light, his face illuminated in the soft green glow of Genji's visor. Eventually, when he can feel Genji's eyes on him for longer than the usual few seconds, he smiles. "Hey," he murmurs, "do you wanna take that off?"

Despite Lúcio having already seen his face, the idea of doing it again so soon sets Genji on edge. "Why ruin the mood?" he shoots back, thumb idly stroking along the ridge of Lúcio’s spine.

He realizes he'd said the wrong thing when Lúcio tenses, going still. Every corded muscle in his body pulls tight, his expression wary and hurt. "You could've just said no," he mutters.

"Lúcio--"

"I know." Sitting up, Lúcio crosses his arms over his chest and frowns. He's no stranger to using humor to cover things other people consider defects, turning parts of himself into a joke before anyone else can, owning the insecurity and brushing it off. Something about Genji's tone, so brusque and serious, would latch onto him and bother him for weeks if he let it. "But don't say that shit about yourself, Genji. I'm not asking you to trust me; I'll back off if you want. Just tell me you don't want to do anything, you don't have to say--"

Lúcio cuts himself off, mouth twisting in agitation.

Genji sits up as well, crossing his legs, slowly so Lúcio can accommodate the movement and settle in his lap, knees on either side of his hips. His shoulders are lowered-- unsure, uneasy, but taking both of Lúcio’s hands, he brings them to the back of his head and slides unfamiliar fingers across the release points. The visor comes off, air filter and all; Genji blinks as he pulls it away and sets it on the bedside table. "I trust you," he says, expression earnest and vulnerable. "Not so much myself."

"You don't trust yourself to what?" Sitting in Genji's lap makes them level, so Lúcio leans forward and bumps his forehead against the pointed front of Genji's helmet, locking eyes. "Be able to pry me off you?"

Genji's halfway through a groan when Lúcio cuts him off, popping the headpiece up and catching his lips in a firm, quick kiss before he pulls back, grinning. They sit in silence for a few seconds more, Genji contemplative while Lúcio taps out a beat on his chest plate, bobbing his head in time to whatever tune he's already started to craft in his head. He sneaks a few looks at Genji's face, as if mildly embarrassed by his own boldness and the cyborg's lack of response.

Suddenly moving with a deliberate, calculated speed, Genji places one hand on the small of Lúcio’s back and the other on the nape of his neck, holding him upright as he presses their mouths together again, gamely trying not to think how rough the texture of his scars must feel against Lúcio’s soft, pliant lips. It doesn't seem to bother him, Lúcio apparently trying his level best to deepen the kiss, his tongue flicking against the line of Genji's teeth until they part.

Genji breaks for air first; years ago he might have been embarrassed about it, but his lungs don't work like they used to and he's not sure he can compete with a musician anyway. At least, he considers as he looks at Lúcio, he hasn't completely forgotten how to kiss-- Lúcio looks dazed, his bottom lip swollen and wet from how much time Genji'd spent sucking on it, breathing shallow and quick. Satisfied with his work, he replaces his visor and wraps his arms around Lúcio’s shoulders when the other man drops forward, head resting in the crook of his neck.

"I'm not in a rush or anything," Lúcio mumbles, sounding pained, "but how do you feel about. You know. Can you? Is that on the table?"

 _Flattering_ , Genji thinks, but his answer is hesitant. "It... is complicated."

"Emotionally?" Lúcio’s breath washes hot over Genji's neck when he turns his head, planting a soft kiss under his jaw where a pulse used to beat. "Physically?"

"Both," he answers, hands sliding down to Lúcio’s hips. "When I was young, I placed much value in physical pleasures." Genji doesn't specify which, but he had been a  _hedonistic_  young man: food, wine, women-- he'd indulged in all of them to excess. "After losing the ability to engage in such things, I felt as though I had become less of a man, and rejected the parts of myself that did not fit my perception of humanity. Master Zenyatta helped me realize that I am no less human for my machinery."

Lúcio sits back upright, a goofy, smitten smile plastered on his face over the idea that Genji would trust him enough to share so much about himself. "Man, machine, philosopher?"

Genji laughs, hand moving up to curl his fingers around the back of Lúcio's neck, thumb resting on the thundering pulse over his carotid artery; some assassin's fixation on vital points. The hairs on Lúcio's nape stand on end, as if pulled by the electricity thrumming under Genji's gauntlets. "Man, machine, philosopher. Cyborg ninja."

It's Lúcio's turn to laugh, a rising burst of sound so charged and heady that Genji's sure his lights are flashing in time to it. After a moment Lúcio turns serious, dark eyes narrowing as he regards the artificial voice box embedded in Genji's throat. "You said," he starts, hesitating a moment before pressing on. "You said you'd 'lost the ability' to, you know, do stuff, and I just wanna say that uh, I don't wanna put any pressure on you, y'know? It's not a big deal to me. If you can't do 'stuff', or you don't want to or... whatever?"

Genji patiently waits for him to trail off, then drops his hands back to his sides. "I misspoke," he says, amusement rolling off him in waves. "Lately, I derive much pleasure from being the cause of it."

He only has the most basic short-range infrared sensors, but they register Lúcio's entire face heating up.

Lúcio gestures vaguely. "So they didn't give you... a cybernetic..."

"It was not a priority when Dr. Ziegler was saving my life," Genji explains, his tone as even and matter-of-fact as he can keep it, thumbs drawing slow circles over Lúcio’s obliques as if to distract himself. "By the time she asked if I wanted one, I was too embarrassed to say yes to someone who had become like a mother to me. In any case, at the time I had no interest in those activities with a body I couldn't accept, and I did not believe anyone would _be_  interested."

"Well," Lúcio tells him, "you were wrong about that last bit."

"Yes. Many times over."

"Wait, what?"

"All kinds of people exist in the world," answers Genji, sounding haunted.

* * *

 

Later, Lúcio lies sprawled across the bed, exhausted, spent, boneless in a haze of pleasure. Genji sits beside him, a stark silhouette against the rising sun in the window, rinsing out his mouth while Lúcio gasps for air. "You," Lúcio accuses, breathless and livid, "said you were never with a guy before."

"I was never _in a relationship_  with a man," Genji corrects after spitting a mouthful of water into the trash, and if he were still capable of smoking without severe damage to his lungs he probably would have lit up a cigarette. "But as I am now," he says thoughtfully, replacing the filter over his mouth, "it may be best if I do not, ah... swallow... in the future."

"Right," says Lúcio, still in disbelief, "I'm guessing that stuff doesn't 'convert to fuel'."

Genji stands, moving for the bathroom. Lúcio hears water running, shutting off-- an echo-y muffled, "I would rather not risk it."

"Is this something we can google?" Lúcio calls back, sitting and pulling the covers over his lap as Genji emerges with another half-full glass of water and sets it on the nightstand. "There anything I can do for you?"

"We'll see," says Genji, voice dry as he settles on the bed again. Leaning closer, he gently thumbs Lúcio’s bottom lip, recalling the days he could've fantasized for hours about all the things a mouth so beautiful could be doing to him. Outwardly, he shakes his head. "But thank you, for your thoughtfulness."

"So polite, gatinho." Yawning, Lúcio catches Genji's hand and lies down again, brushing his lips along a sensitive stretch of synthetic muscle along the inside of the cyborg wrist. He looks up at Genji through soft, half-lidded eyes, mouth pulled into the slightest impression of a pout. He says something, almost too breathy and quiet to catch, grip loosening as he drifts off, nestling into the covers Genji pulls over his shoulders.

 _Wish I could see you smiling more, Genji_.

* * *

 

A week later Lúcio’s concert goes off without a hitch. Having planted bugs all around the Shimada estate, Genji stays backstage with the crew but tracks the clan's movements carefully. They often rely on big events in Hanamura to mask shipments of smuggled equipment-- or at least they did when Genji was a child, the entire area being relatively quiet for the moment. Some part of Genji is convinced that Hanzo's sudden reappearance threw a wrench into their plans and delayed if not outright canceled them.

He decides not to question it too much, however; once back at Gibraltar, Athena would be able to track the Shimadagumi's movements and alert him to unusual pings.

Lúcio sends his crew off at an after-party held at a club Genji used to frequent, immediately stationing himself at the booth with another DJ, the two of them alternating between Lúcio’s own jams and select picks off of Japan's top 40s.

Genji's appearance has changed enough that no one recognizes him and his old friends are too busy at company jobs to show their faces but all the same, he stays for one toast and returns to the hotel to pack. Lúcio apparently catches him leaving, because a message pops up on his HUD as soon as he steps outside and crosses the street.

> you okay? want me to come with you?

They don't check on each other much-- in the week before his big concert, they had barely seen each other at all and other than the occasional update on a new flavor of Pretz or Kit-Kats at the local convenience store, Genji largely left him to his press entourage. Lúcio, still probing for Genji's boundaries and deciding to err on the side of caution, would occasionally send him a picture of some new thing he'd tried and liked. Neither of them feels like defining whatever nebulous thing their relationship had become, but the brief communications were always a relief to Genji. 'I'm alive,' they'd signify; 'I'm alright, maybe a little bored but not in any danger.'

Since reuniting in Hanamura, they'd had much more reason to keep the channel open.

> everything is fine.  
> i want to get ahead on packing

> miss you already

Genji nearly trips over the curb, stumbling before he catches himself on a brick wall. No one sees him, luckily, but he still takes a moment to calculate just how many drinks Lúcio would have had since arriving at the club (the answer: way too many).

> call me if you need someone to carry you back

> k

They don't actually have that much to pack; Lúcio travels light, his equipment usually shipped out to his next destination rather than with him on planes. He hasn't picked up many souvenirs in Japan, all but one of the frogs Genji had won at the arcade distributed to kids around the neighborhood who approach him for autographs. (The last one stays clipped to the strap of his carry-on duffel.)

It's nearly three in the morning when Lúcio finally returns, peeling off his gear and shirt the moment he steps inside and has the door shut behind him. "You wouldn't _believe_ ," he gripes as he ducks into the bathroom and turns on the shower, his voice echoing off the tile walls, "how many drinks got spilled on me. Can you grab my legs?"

Genji scoops the prosthetics off the couch where he'd left them, navigates around the luggage already neatly lined up in front of the dresser and leaves them on the bed while he helps Lúcio remove and pack his skates. Lúcio ducks into the bathroom once he's finally changed and stripped, poking his head around the door while Genji collects his alcohol-soaked clothing off the floor. "Hey," he says, "wanna join me? Do you shower?"

"Next time," Genji answers, idly flexing one mechanical hand, "and yes. Usually when you are not here."

Wiping down with a towel to get the debris and residue of a day outside or in training is usually enough, though he has fond memories of the industrial-strength hose in Gibraltar. Most of the other agents, after wallowing in filth for a week, would need hour-long showers just to feel human again. At the time Genji hadn't exactly embraced his new body, but he'd always liked the expediency of a detergent spray and ten-minute hose down, then a few minutes with a can of WD-40.

"Next time!" Lúcio concurs, disappearing back into the bathroom. He's done in about twenty minutes, but spends the next two hours wringing out his locs. By the time they're on the train and halfway to Narita, Lúcio’s knocked out completely in his seat, head lolling against Genji's shoulder until the cyborg shifts him carefully to lean against the window with a pillow wedged under his neck instead.

* * *

 

Zenyatta greets them at the base in Gibraltar, a convoy having taken them from Iberia to the Watchpoint. Genji seems so happy to see his master again that Lúcio hangs back, waiting for Winston and Tracer to join them before he jumps into introductions.

"You," says Winston, gingerly shaking Lúcio’s hand, "are actually Genji's third recruit, if you'll believe it. Of all the agents to be bringing people on."

"Third?" Genji asks, suddenly distracted from his reunion with Zenyatta. "My master, Lúcio... and?"

Tracer looks at him like he's completely lost his mind. "D.Va?"

Lúcio’s ecstatic _Is D.Va here?!_  overlaps perfectly with Genji's exasperated _Song-kun is here?!_  At Winston's nod, he presses his fingers to his temples, a gesture reminiscent of trying to calm a headache. "Actually," Winston says, "she called us up last week, saying that you sent her and she wanted in. The South Korean government has agreed to allow her to operate with us."

"I don't think the South Korean government is 'allowing' her to do anything," Lúcio comments, a wry grin on his face. "Have you met the girl?"

Tracer and Winston laugh, nodding in agreement. "That sounds about right," Lena says, and she takes his arm, offering to show Lúcio to his room. Winston goes with them, insisting on giving him a tour of the place.

Zenyatta drifts closer to Genji when the others are out of sight, placing one hand on his shoulder. They've been apart for longer, before, but Genji had always returned agitated, worn and tired. This time around he seems relaxed, though no less happy to be back in Zenyatta's presence. "How was your trip, Genji?"

"It was good, master." Genji moves for the cliffs, seeking out a secluded spot he used to retreat to when the base became too stifling and loud. "Have you become familiar with this place yet?"

Zenyatta floats beside him, sounding delighted both to be in Gibraltar and to have him back. "Yes! It is very beautiful."

"Where are you staying?"

"Your room, for the moment." Zenyatta pauses, sounding momentarily unsure as he explains, "There is only just enough extra space for Hana and Lúcio. I hope that I am not imposing on you, my student."

Stepping closer, Genji slings an arm over Zenyatta's shoulders and presses his side to the monk's. He's rarely so tactile with Zenyatta, but after a month of Lúcio’s casual, constant touch, it seems natural. "It would be an honor to have you stay with me," he says firmly. "What is mine is yours."

"You and Lúcio have grown closer," Zenyatta observes, making no move to extract himself from under Genji's arm as they walk. "All is well?"

 _Understatement._  "Yes," he answers, stopping by a familiar old olive tree and sitting in its dappled shade, "we have enjoyed our time together, but right now I would like to be with you."

Zenyatta hums, pleased and surprised as he lowers himself to the grass next to him. "Shall we meditate?"

"You have not already?"

"I heard you were arriving today, so I decided to wait."

A flood of warm contentment seeps through Genji's body. He'd missed Zenyatta; complete, unconditional acceptance he'd always felt from the omnic setting him at ease, the same way being in Nepal gave him a measure of comfort. "Yes," he says, leaning over to bump Zenyatta's shoulder with his own, "I would like that."

* * *

 

Lúcio and Zenyatta get along well, as Genji expected. Lúcio’s been vocal about his support for the Shambali and their cause-- he's known plenty of omnics, but few with Zenyatta's depth and breadth of knowledge. They exchange stories of their travels, their homes, occasionally Genji. Lúcio doesn't meditate with them, telling Zenyatta that he doesn't have the patience for it but Genji suspects that he mostly wants to give them space. They spend mealtimes together, though only Lúcio ever needs to eat.

More people had responded to the Recall than Genji initially expected, which could explain the lack of rooms; as far as he knew, Gibraltar was one of the larger Watchpoints. Lúcio tells him about running into someone who could only be Professor Zhou who was, last Genji heard, in cryostasis, and Reinhardt who somehow hasn't managed to cross Genji's path yet despite being roughly the size of a house. Then again, Genji does almost spend more time in the rafters and struts of the Watchpoint than properly walking around it. He catches sight of Zaryanova a few times, but having read her file he gives her a wide berth for the time being.

McCree and Morrison ambush him at breakfast in the cafeteria, two of them having formed a sort of cautious friendship despite having only tangentially known each other when Genji was in Overwatch. Jesse pulls Genji into a headlock while Jack introduces himself to Lúcio and Zenyatta, patting Genji awkwardly on the shoulder in greeting while making no actual move to save him from the deranged cowboy.

"McCree," Genji sighs, still trapped under his mechanical arm (the only one strong enough to contain him), "why?"

"You disappear," McCree drawls, "say nothin' to me or Angela or none of your old friends for over a _half a decade_ , and now you come back after recruitin' a DJ, a monk and a Starcraft champ. You're really somethin' else, partner."

Lúcio laughs, extending a fist for McCree to pound as he lets go of Genji. "DJ," he says cheerfully.

"Cowboy!" McCree says, pointing at himself.

"Monk," Zenyatta chimes in, manifesting all of his incorporeal arms. Jesse and Lúcio throw their heads back and laugh in delight, the two of them extending both fists for Zenyatta to bump. Then they turn stares on Jack until he gives in and does the same.

McCree and Jack sit, digging into their food while they chat with Lúcio (well, McCree chats; 76 gives the occasional grunt). Genji answers a question once in a while, but he and Zenyatta are mostly content to listen. They're up early enough that not many of the other agents are even awake so when someone enters the mess hall, her strides long and full of purpose, Genji does a double-take. The woman is tall, her arms mechanical from the elbows down, the tattoo under her eye painfully familiar.

Ana?

No, too young.

He stands, motioning her over to the table. "Fareeha," he says, clasping her hand as she approaches and pulling her in, "you have grown!"

Genji remembers as well as she does how she used to visit with her mother the year before she was old enough to join the Egyptian army, chattering about signing with Overwatch. "You are not much older than me," she scoffs, then smiles. "It's Pharah now."

"A fitting callsign." Genji knows all about strained relationships with family members, so he doesn't mention Ana. "I am sure you do it justice."

 _Punk_ , McCree mutters under his breath, though he's smiling. Even Jack's lip twitches in amusement, his eyes invisible beneath a visor but probably rolling. Compared to the lukewarm reception Genji had given them and Winston, he's practically singing Pharah's praises. Lúcio shakes his head, recalling the playful, charming way he'd acted around Mercy and Tracer-- even D.Va.

Pharah opens up quickly to Genji, two of them being close in age and both with fond memories of Overwatch as it was. He's absorbed in the conversation but never seems to forget Lúcio, reaching occasionally over to squeeze his knee under the table. After breakfast, Pharah invites Zenyatta to a training session, curious of his abilities, and whisks him away. Jack and McCree take their leave as well, Jesse cracking jokes about target practice.

Lúcio had mentioned wanting to do some training of his own on top of familiarizing himself with the Watchpoint, so Genji leads him toward a cliff overlooking the Bay of Gibraltar. Without waiting for Lúcio, Genji steps off the edge, turning to grab a hold of the rock face, cleats braced securely against the limestone surface. "Last one to the bottom and back up cooks lunch," Genji calls, grinning as Lúcio pokes his head over the edge, looking exasperated. "If you fall, I will catch you."

"You don't have to worry about that!" A second later, Lúcio swings himself down, his skates gripping a smooth edge as he aims himself almost vertically toward the ground, whooping as he hops to an outcropping and brakes. "I think I'm gonna win this one."

"And back up," Genji reminds him, releasing his own handholds and dropping a good distance to the next. He's scaled the cliffs hundreds of times, but the limestone changes constantly, buffeted by wind and ocean spray. He used to dislike the disruption to his usual routine, having to find a different path each time, but recently the transience of even massive natural features serves as a gentle reminder of how he's changed and matured.

At the bottom of the cliff, a strip of beach stretches along the coast, Lúcio landing on it in an explosion of damp sand. Genji joins him almost ten seconds later. Before Lúcio can properly gloat, Genji pops off the visor, silences him with a slow, languid kiss, then clips his mask back on.

"Yeah," says Lúcio, baring his teeth, "you wanna stay down here for a while? Get some privacy?"

"In two hours," Genji laughs, "this beach will disappear under high tide. For now, come with me."

"Where're we going?"

Genji leads him around a bend, then launches himself up to a small outcropping over the water, where the sand abruptly ends. "Do not fall here," he warns, "you may be sucked under and we won't find your body for days."

"Cool," Lúcio answers, backing up before he jumps, skates gripping the limestone wall before they catch on an edge and he hops the rest of the way. He doesn't need it, but he grabs the arm Genji stretches out anyway, nearly bowling him over. A little farther up the cliff, he glimpses a hole in the rock face under a steep overhang, invisible from above but perfectly reachable from where he and Genji are standing. "That one?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Race you!"

Genji doesn't wait for a countdown, the boosters in his back propelling him halfway to the goal before Lúcio can even take a step. He clambers the rest of the way up, choosing hand- and footholds quickly to keep up momentum as he scales the almost completely-smooth wall. Lúcio’s not far behind, the texture of this face well suited for his hard-light skates, but Genji pulls himself up into the cave first, waiting arms akimbo while Lúcio swings himself in.

"Now what?"

Genji indicates with a tilt of his head the steep, rocky incline leading further into the darkness. "More climbing."

* * *

 

The tunnel is long and winding, taking them all the way under the Watchpoint, around it, to a crack in the ground on top of a butte overlooking the base. Lúcio has no trouble navigating it, stepping where Genji indicates solid footing, his LEDs at maximum brightness. It's nearly mid-day by the time they emerge back into the light, nothing but dry grass and short, scrubby growth populating the mesa. They had moved at a leisurely pace, but someone in a rush with the right equipment could theoretically make it up in minutes.

"Look," Genji says, stepping to the edge and regarding the Watchpoint complex sprawling below them. "I had trouble navigating this place until I saw it from here."

Lúcio whistles, trying to focus on the base but his eyes drawn to the horizon, to the clear blue sea and its gentle surge and retreat, mountains in the distance across the water, obscured by mist and fog. "I could get used to this. It's beautiful."

"This place was also a Blackwatch rendezvous point, in case Gibraltar became compromised." Genji, having seen the view more times than he cares to count, mostly watches Lúcio. "There are many ways to reach it, but the path we took is my favorite."

Tearing his eyes away from the landscape, Lúcio crosses his arms over his chest and looks sideways at Genji. "Hey," he says, "speaking of Blackwatch, did you know Gabriel Reyes?"

"Yes."

"What was he like?"

Genji is quiet for a moment, turning away from Lúcio to look out onto the water. "He was a good man." Genji keeps his voice even, the same mellow tone he has when relaxed, or absorbed in pleasant memories. "Strong, and tough, very strict but he looked out for his subordinates. I have been on several assignments with Blackwatch. He always planned well, and acted quickly in emergencies."

"Do you know what went down between him and Morrison?"

"That was before my time," Genji responds, "and their fallout happened after I left. When I joined Overwatch, they had already grown distant."

Lúcio doesn't let it go, unwilling to accept a vague non-answer. "I heard," he says, wishing that Genji's face weren't obscured so he might have some cue to read, "that they got into it because Morrison got strike commander over Reyes. That Reyes was jealous."

That, Genji doesn't hesitate to rebuke. "He was not a jealous man." Pausing for a second to consider his words, Genji visibly struggles to remain neutral; after all, he'd liked Jack very much, and still respects the man. "There were many reasons given for why Morrison became commander over Reyes, but plenty in the old guard, who worked with them both, agreed that the UN thought Morrison was better for public relations. The move did not sit well with all of us, although Blackwatch was technically a promotion."

Lúcio accepts that, not happy about it but it wasn't exactly an unexpected development, either. "And the things Blackwatch did?"

"The UN could not officially sanction their operations," Genji sighs, somewhat thrown by Lúcio’s naiveté, especially from someone who'd seen for himself the corruption that could fester in any organization with enough power and government backing, "but the orders came from somewhere and it was not from within."

Ana and Gabriel rarely contested their orders, but they just as frequently liked them. Genji was never as involved with Blackwatch as any of its true operatives, collaborating mostly when the Shimada clan was involved, but he'd always trusted their judgment and their principles. Not that he could ask them now, anyway.

Lúcio nods, thoughtful and quiet. "He was my hero, you know?" Grinning, he points finger-guns at Genji, miming a shotgun's kick as he fires them one after the other. "As kids we used to pretend to be him in our favela. He wasn't Brazilian but we'd say, you know, no one's perfect."

"I can imagine." Genji smiles, privately charmed by the idea of a tiny Lúcio snarling at his friends in Reyes's deep growl. "He was someone I deeply respected and admired as well."

Lúcio looks at him, so much naked trust in his eyes that Genji turns his head away to break contact. At peace, his mind tells him that whether or not they last, he can at least enjoy the experience and think fondly back on it. The rest of him rebels at the idea of getting in too deep, at relying so much on someone he's barely known for a month, allowing himself to cling to a man who craves freedom as badly as he does. Inevitably their paths will diverge and Genji doesn't see himself trying to prevent it. How cruel would it be, to cage a sparrow and put a frog in a tank?

Breaking him out of his thoughts, Lúcio kicks a pebble off the mesa. "Do we have to go through that tunnel to get back to the base?"

"No, there are easier ways down."

"Oh," says Lúcio, though he doesn't look particularly disappointed. "Kinda wanted to go for a swim."

"We can, still."

Lúcio raps his knuckles against a knee, grinning at Genji's offer to humor him. "Yeah, but not with these."

"If you take them off," Genji tells him, serious and matter-of-fact, "I won't allow you to drown."

Lúcio turns to face the water, closes his eyes, tilting his head back and breathing in, sweat wicked away from his face by a lukewarm sea breeze. "Next time."

"Next time," Genji repeats, ignoring the elated whisper in his mind that there _will_  be a next time, and maybe even a time after that.

High up as they are, against the backdrop of the bay and distant mountains, Lúcio looks desperately small with his shoulders back, standing firm and straight on the edge of a precipice. Whatever he's thinking, his face is calm, constant movement stilled for the moment before he shakes himself out of it, pressing a button on his headset to snap a picture. "I gotta get back to base," he says suddenly, already tapping out a beat on his thigh while the fingers of his other hand flex, taking notes on a melody to save to file. "Race you?"

Genji pats him on the shoulder, moving away from the ledge Lúcio’s standing in front of and choosing another one, stepping backwards off it with a cheeky wave. Lúcio whoops, pumps his speed boost to maximum and dives after him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i rarely reply to comments, and i'm really sorry! i never have any idea what to say to all your kind words (all i can do is flail), but i'm really glad everyone is enjoying this fic. thank you for reading!

D.Va spends the next few hours in Lúcio's room, hovering over his shoulder while he tweaks the mix he'd recorded for her, headset removed for the moment and plugged into his laptop. He'd chosen an upbeat, pounding bass line-- victorious brass notes swooping over a plucky keyboard melody. Hana's relentless drive, her heroism, youthful sweetness, all on display. The instruments are masterfully layered, dissonant rhythms carefully melded as they build to a crescendo--

"I've been working on this since you texted me," Lúcio tells her, turning down the volume while Genji lounges in his bed, flipping through a hockey magazine. Lúcio had asked him to stay under the pretense of having an extra sounding board, one who'd grown up on music similar to the kind Lúcio himself makes, and D.Va had insisted he stay as well, to 'hear how cool my theme's gonna be'. "What do you think?"

As the song fades out, Hana rests her chin in one hand, brows drawing together as her face scrunches up. "I'm not sure how to describe it," she says, "but I love it. It's got a... 'jeong' vibe to it. Like, it makes you feel brave and connected."

Lúcio grins. "Gotta fit the hero it's written for, right?"

D.Va shakes her head, covering her face with her hands. Genji almost snorts; Hana trying to give the impression of modesty when she's never bothered before means she's either learned humility or Lúcio had really managed to go above and beyond her normal threshold for compliments. "Sunbae," Hana chirps, peering at him through her fingers, "what did you think?"

"When I was younger," he tells her, "I would have downloaded it to my playlist immediately after seeing the movie."

"What about now?"

Genji taps his visor. "I am more efficient now."

"Flatterer!" Lúcio laughs.

"Send it to me!" D.Va latches onto Lúcio's shoulders, shaking him gently. "Send it to me! I'm gonna put it on repeat until I'm sick of it!"

"Alright, alright."

While Lúcio tabs around on his screen, Hana leans over, squinting at a file in the background. "What's that one?" she asks, pointing. "That you're transferring? Gen-dot-mp3?"

Genji looks up from his magazine. Lúcio slams a button on the edge of his keyboard, minimizing every window. "Nothing!"

"Are you writing music for sunbae?" D.Va's pitch rises in excitement, "Oh my god, you guys. Theme of Genji? Cyborg ninja ballad?"

"Song-kun," Genji cuts in as Lúcio soundlessly works his mouth, shooting off a quick message to Lena, "Tracer wants you to meet her in the training area."

"Huh?" Popping her gum, Hana narrows her eyes at him. "You liar. You just want to save your boyfriend."

"Lena," Genji sighs, patching her into his mic, "you are on speaker."

Tracer's voice rings out, sounding deeply amused. "Reinhardt's bowin' out of this round and we need a tank! Could you step in, love?"

 _That_ gets Hana's attention, the girl suddenly standing bolt upright, casting around the room for her phone and her bag. "Yeah," she calls back, snatching up her things and clutching them to her chest, plucking at the loose collar of her t-shirt, "no problem! But I have to change!"

"Great! I'll see you soon!"

"Song-kun," Genji says before she dashes out, stopping her in the doorway.

"Yeah?"

"Keep this a secret, all right?"

Lúcio flashes her a wry grin, his shoulders lifting in a helpless shrug. "Please?"

D.Va snorts, her cheeks puffing out while she considers his request. "Okay," she says after a long silence, "fine. But just 'cause Lúcio gave me a really amazing song."

Genji gives her a little salute. "Thank you."

Lúcio slumps in his seat when Hana's out of earshot, her footsteps taking her down the corridor and a slamming door making her location obvious. "Close one," he says, pounding on his chest a few times, as if to get his heart pumping again. "That could've been bad."

Genji makes a soft affirmative sound, then drifts to Lúcio's desk. He hovers behind the DJ for a second, then affectionately pinches his cheek. "You wrote music for me? Was that why you suddenly wanted to return?"

Sitting up, Lúcio squawks, "No!" then springs to his feet, pushing Genji out his door. "Go back to your room!"

Genji gets the file hours later, well past midnight, set up in a corner of Winston's lab maintenancing Ryuu Ichimonji.

If he could have written his own theme, it would sound nothing like the music Lúcio's composed for him. It probably would've been triumphant electric guitar (of course, Genji'd come up with that as a teenager)-- not the lone, reedy flute that dominates this intro. A melancholy violin joins it, then others (clarinet? cello?), instruments intertwining in a smooth, rising harmony. Under it all, a pulsing electronic riff beats in almost perfect time to the pacemaker attached to the inside of his chest plate.

Strings and winds. So obvious, in hindsight. Something about the melody seems entrenched in grief but then soaring high notes declare freedom, breaking from the restrained tempo of the first half. Whatever Genji expects to feel as the song winds down, it isn't the peace that washes over him.

He finishes polishing and sharpening his sword, checking its moving parts for residue or debris, then sheathes it, returning to the residential wing and toeing open the door across from his and Zenyatta's room. "Lúcio?"

"Here," Lúcio mumbles, lifting the corner of his blanket, sighing contentedly and sitting up as Genji slides in next to him. "D'you like it?"

As Lúcio squishes up against his side, already so accustomed to his armor that he fits himself comfortably under his arm with almost no effort, Genji leans back, allowing himself to relax. "It... set me at ease. Thank you."

"Cool," says Lúcio, still drowsy, "I'm better with music than words, y'know?"

"I think you are very good with both."

"Flatterer," Lúcio laughs, dropping his head against Genji's shoulder, choosing a spot against the smooth plane of his chest armor to rest his cheek. When Genji's lights remain lit, no sign of the usual slow dimming, Lúcio looks up, voice soft as he asks, "What's on your mind, gatinho?"

Curling a hand over the ball of Lúcio's shoulder, Genji pulls him closer, careful not to knock the bandana tied around his locs loose. "Do I seem so sad, to you?"

"Was it sad?" Lúcio stays silent for a second, a thoughtful beat before he sighs, throwing one leg over Genji's thigh and settling in. "Instrumental's not my specialty, I'll figure it out for next time."

"You don't have to--"

"For the record," Lúcio mumbles, "I was going for brave, and kind. Patient, generous... you make me feel safe, you know? I wanted to make you feel that way too."

Genji says nothing, but something in his breathing must have changed, because Lúcio lifts his wrist, pressing his lips to the artificial sinew that works his forearm.

"Não chore, Genji. You know it's true."

"I," Genji says stiffly as Lúcio laughs, "am _not_ crying."

* * *

 

Lúcio gets his first taste of an Overwatch assignment nearly two weeks after he arrives in Gibraltar. He joins a standard team of six agents (Winston's taken to calling them freelancers and independent contractors, citing some obscure legislative loophole in the PETRAS Act), all of them boarding a plane and hiking it out to the west coast of the USA.

California's balmy weather is close enough to Gibraltar's that Genji barely notices the difference as he steps off the convoy, Lúcio just behind him and the rest of the team trailing after. Winston had ordered a security system for the Watchpoint through an underground channel he'd stayed in touch with, some obscenely expensive and heavy-duty equipment that had to be picked up personally, transported across town, then loaded into an Overwatch freight plane. Simple.

"The Deadlocks operate 'round these parts," McCree drawls, pulling the brim of his hat down over his eyes. "We're gonna have one hell of a time getting the payload back."

"WE WILL NOT FAIL!" Reinhardt bellows. Tracer and Mei cheer, both of them jumping to high-five the hands Reinhardt holds up, his laughter a deep, tectonic rumble.

"Payload?" Lúcio asks, trotting after Genji as he tries the handle in front of the warehouse they've been dropped in front of. "So it's a payload now?"

"Payload can refer to equipment," Genji tells him, scaling the wall and grabbing onto the sill of a window, "or a person, so long as we are escorting it to an objective."

Lúcio watches him swing himself inside, then positions himself in front of the door when it clicks open, Genji on the other side with a keycard in hand and an unconscious guard bound behind him. "I do not know if that was necessary," he quips as Lúcio peers around him and the rest of the team trickles inside, "but Jesse says there may be an informant. It seemed safer."

McCree pulls back the tarp on the cargo hold of a flatbed truck, matching the revealed serial number to the digits scrawled haphazardly in pencil on his mechanical arm. "That's the one," he announces, hauling himself into the driver's seat and scrubbing away the writing on his arm as Reinhardt positions himself in front of the vehicle and throws up his barrier. Mei hops into the passenger seat, Snowball humming in her lap next to her endothermic blaster.

Tracer punches Genji on the shoulder, flashing him a wink. "Me and you again, love?"

"You must be getting sick of me," Genji says, the set of his shoulders and his easy posture belying the joke. "Last one to the checkpoint buys winner a drink?"

Tracer spins her pistols, holstering them to shake Genji's hand. "I'll take that bet."

"What about me?" Lúcio asks, shifting his weight between his feet. "Where would I be most useful?"

Tracer jerks a thumb over her shoulder. "We're just scoutin' ahead for now, if you'd like to help out with that."

"But be prepared to retreat and back up Commander Reinhardt and Dr. Zhou," says Genji.

"Right," says Lúcio, rolling up to him and snapping off a little salute. "Eyes on everyone. I can do that."

Genji rolls his shoulders, checks that his shuriken are loaded, and glances behind them to Reinhardt, Jesse and Mei while they begin to move the truck forward, equipment heavy enough that it can barely progress faster than a crawl. "Like a point guard."

"Oh yeah?" Lúcio grins, "You play? Wanna one-on-one sometime?"

Genji leaves Lúcio just enough time to register his own words, then laughs and ducks his head to eye level. "I would be happy to one-on-one with you anytime."

"Yeah, yeah." Lúcio pushes a hand against Genji's visor and looks away, fighting back another grin. "Let's go."

Tracer nods, clapping Lúcio on the shoulder as she leans in to whisper in his ear, "No speed-boosting while the race is on."

"Roger that. Lúcio Correia dos Santos _always_  plays fair."

* * *

 

Tracer makes contact first, stumbling onto a biker crouched behind a crate well before she reaches the first checkpoint. Once she's emptied a clip into his back, she taps into the communication channel and announces, "Race's off, boys."

Genji responds first, still well-acquainted with her MO. "How many do you see?"

"Just the one for now, but they're set up for an ambush."

Exchanging a look with Genji, Lúcio kicks off the closest wall, abruptly changing direction to join up again with the rear guard. Genji scales the building and disappears into a window.

About halfway back to the payload, Lúcio already regrets splitting off, running almost headlong into a Deadlock as he rounds a corner. Both of them taken by surprise, Lúcio recovers first and manages to get a few shots in his face before he backpedals, scrambling for cover. When the biker follows him, Lúcio pulls his second trigger and blasts the man backwards, following up with a few more body shots, bobbing and weaving to avoid revolver fire.

He'd altered the sonic amplifier rounds for disruption and distraction rather than damage, and Lúcio mildly regrets it as he ducks around another corner, having finally lost the upper hand now that the other guy's gained his bearings. He expects, at the very least, a few bullets to start tearing through the crate against his back, but he only registers one ricocheting off the ceiling, and then a strangled yell.

Lúcio pops his head over, prepared to duck back down.

In what's quickly become a familiar sight, Genji stands over an unconscious body, his armor scratched and dinged in several places. "Are you hurt?" he asks, sounding a little breathless behind his visor.

"I'm alright," Lúcio says, swinging himself over the crate and toggling his amplifier to start healing any injuries Genji might have. "Are you? Did he do that?"

"Ah... no, I had a few other engagements before I caught up with you." Despite the frantic rush he's in, Genji lingers long enough to check Lúcio over, one hand resting gently on his shoulder before he takes off again, a flash of green disappearing through the door and up another wall. In his ear, Lúcio hears, "You should join the others on the payload."

Genji, for his part, takes to the highest point he can locate. Lúcio reaches the payload, the blur from his hard-light skates flashing as he approaches the truck. Reinhardt, still walking ahead. The payload moves, so McCree at least must still be in it. An ice wall occasionally rises behind the truck, guarding their backs. Genji doesn't look for Tracer, the woman too small and too fast for him to properly track, but she checks in with an update every few minutes.

He scans the place instead for another cluster of Deadlocks along the route they'd planned to take, only one road wide enough and smooth enough to sustain the weight of Winston's new toys. Spotting a few hidden behind a shack, Genji bounds across the rooftops, hurling shuriken at their head from above as he jumps the gap over them. Waiting for the first few rounds of fire to pause, he drops down to finish them off, quickly incapacitating two, the others nowhere in sight.

While he reloads, a shot goes off behind him, bits of charred plaster flaking off the wall by his head.

In his ear: 「Behind you!」

Drawing his shortsword, Genji turns on his heel in time to deflect a number of rounds, dashing forward during a pause in the gunfire to strike down another biker. A blue streak whizzes by his head, impaling something behind him.

「If you're following me anyway,」 he comments, voice dry as Hanzo drops down behind him, 「why not join Overwatch and get free transportation?」

Hanzo growls, a low rumble reverberating through his back into Genji's armor as they draw together, instinct honed from nearly two decades of training together overtaking whatever hostility still remains. 「I am not,」 he says, 「following you.」

「Right,」 Genji retorts, turning to face his brother once they've confirmed that they're clear, 「you're just in California because you like the weather.」

「Do you want to protect your team or would you rather continue getting shot from behind?」

He has no expectation that Hanzo will give in to his request, but it's frighteningly easy to fall back into the habit of needling his brother. Pitching his voice higher, childish and sneering, Genji gives him an exaggerated bow. 「I'd be honored to have your help, _onii-chan_.」

Genji hasn't called him that since well before they were teens; back when he'd still run crying to Hanzo over falling out of a tree, or scraping his knee in the rock garden. It never stopped him from climbing trees or chasing cats in the courtyard, and the unnatural robotic pitch to his voice makes Genji sound as foreign as any stranger to Hanzo, but the curious tilt of his head, his easy stance, the way he rubs the back of his neck during awkward silences--

Hanzo grimaces.

「Sorry,」 says Genji, sounding unrepentant, 「I didn't realize that would cause a reaction.」

「Liar,」 Hanzo grunts, though he can't deny deserving it.

「You know where the rest of them are?」 Genji asks, following his brother up a wall and to the roof of a wooden building. He uses a hand to shield his eyes, blocking the sun out of habit. With his visor and helmet he hardly needs to, but he's had to rely on body language much more since receiving his new body to at least give the impression of paying attention.

「Six more,」 answers Hanzo, 「waiting ahead. Then clear to your destination.」

Genji's hand brushes the sleeve of his gi, fingers catching lightly in the material as he tugs on it. 「You won't even consider joining Overwatch?」

「No,」 Hanzo answers, desperately pushing away the image of Genji as a child, adoring eyes turned up to him as he wheedles Hanzo into opening a jar of konpeito for him, fascinated by their bright colors and intriguing shape. He tugs his arm away, needlessly smoothing the material where Genji's grip had been.

「It would be easier than tracking the signal on your earpiece and rushing over,」 Genji points out, his wry tone shattering that brief illusion.

Hanzo removes the earpiece, drops it to the roof and crushes it underfoot.

「How many clones of that do you have?」 Genji laughs. 「Just so you could crush it in front of me. I am not offering out of some misguided sense of pity, brother. I truly want you with us.」

Hanzo considers that Genji used to be so innocent, so trusting; even as a frighteningly observant child, it had taken years for him to truly interpret the things he could see, some cynical understanding of human nature coming with age and training. He'd always hated that part of their regimen-- reading targets and getting close to a hit-- but it was the one place he could outperform Hanzo every time. Leave it to Genji to excel at forging connections with those he's required to kill.

Hanzo points west. 「You will find them in that direction.」

「It's good to see you again.」

Hanzo hops off the roof. Genji doesn't expect to see him as he peers over the edge, but he's disappointed anyway that the most substantial sign of his brother is a dusty footprint, already being swept away by a harsh gust of wind.

* * *

 

"Two more down," Genji announces to the channel as he sprints back to the rear guard. "There should be four left, if they have not scattered and retreated."

"We're all clear to the objective," Tracer responds, "but I'll stay up here just in case."

"I am returning to the payload."

"Uh-oh," Mei says as Genji rounds the corner to the last stretch, "I think they're coordinating."

Two motorcycles hurtle at the truck from opposite alleys, their riders waving revolvers, firing wildly in their general direction. Reinhardt turns, his shield blocking one set of gunfire but unable to stop the rider. McCree, one hand on the wheel and the rest of him practically hanging out of the truck window, manages to land a few shots on the chassis of one bike, upending it. The Deadlock rolls off, managing to land upright after a few tumbles. Genji aims his shuriken at the back wheel of the other, puncturing it and sending the vehicle skidding forward.

"Freeze!" Mei's voice rings out as she hurls Snowball out of the passenger window, sudden blast of cold freezing both men and motorcycles before they can collide with the payload. "Don't move," she adds, grinning.

Reinhardt swings his hammer. "TWO LEFT!" he roars, sounding elated that he'd finally seen some action. "I thought I would miss out on the excitement!"

"Still clear here," Tracer quips.

Genji clambers onto the back of the truck and takes a quick headcount. "Where is Lúcio?"

"Backtracked," Jesse answers, thumbing the brim of his hat up, "said he might've seen something."

Genji takes off, a flash of green toward the roof of the closest building. Flicking through the audio channels his comm link's hooked up to, he pauses at Lúcio's, running an algorithm to remotely turn on his mic. Winston had sent it to him, for situations where an agent couldn't request help for any reason, though he'd rarely had reason to use it before. Static crackles through his audio feed over frenetic background noise, the sonic amplifier's distinctive thwump echoing from a distance. After a few seconds, someone snatches up the headset, violently enough to send feedback into Genji's channel, and Lúcio's voice bursts through. "Hey! Need backup!"

"Where are you?"

Lúcio fires his amp into the air, four green bursts of light rising like bubbles out of an alley several blocks away. Genji ignores a sudden influx of communication, the rest of their team having heard the request but nothing else, and sprints for the alley. He's cleared about half the distance when two shots ring out in close succession, a deafening crack even from his vantage point. Popping the boosters on his back and legs, Genji dashes forward, not pausing at the edge of the roof before dropping into the side street.

Lúcio's standing, a leather-clad biker crumpled at his feet curled around himself and twitching in pain. Lúcio doesn't react to the sound of Genji's landing, doesn't even turn around when Genji calls his name, and he presses his fingers to the headset he'd recovered. "One down," he says. "Can anyone read me? I guess there's one more around somewhere?"

He looks uninjured, nothing but a few scrapes and bruises Rejuvenescência should be able to fix in seconds, but the wounds aren't knitting as they should.

"Hey, can anyone read? Am I still connected?" Bringing one hand up to scratch an itch on his ear, Lúcio's entire body stiffens as he pulls it away and regards the blood slicking his fingers. Softly, "Anyone?"

Genji wraps a hand around Lúcio's upper arm, holding on through his attempt to jerk away, dragging him backwards into a small corner store-- for the moment a place with plenty of cover.

"Genji," Lúcio gasps as he's physically lowered to sit on the floor against a wall, slight vibrations where armor touches skin denoting speech, but nothing reaches his ears. Suddenly finding no room for air in his lungs, "I can't hear, I can't--"

Genji tears his own visor off, removes the guard over his mouth and grabs Lúcio's face with both hands, turning his head to look directly at him. His lips move, slowly enunciating every syllable. _Calm down. Lúcio, you must stay calm._

"Genji--"

Noticing the large crack in Lúcio's headset, Genji removes it, gently so as not to pull at his ear or poke him in the eye, and he presses his own visor over Lúcio's eyes, a foam pad digging lightly into the bridge of his nose. As he replaces his filter, text appears on the HUD.

> it seems your eardrums were ruptured  
> this is temporary  
> you will be fine

Lúcio grabs for Genji's wrists, grip panic-tight around them. "I can't-- this is the one thing I can't lose, Genji."

> deep breaths, lucio  
> dr. ziegler will take care of you when we return to the watchpoint

Lúcio breathes, deep and shaky until his heart rate returns to normal. He stills, Genji kneeling in front of him, straddling his legs as he gently wipes away the blood trickling out of his ears and down his neck. When Genji seems satisfied, he picks up the visor again and fits it into Lúcio's hand, turning it so the screen overlay inside is visible.

> we must return to the payload

A shape darkens the doorway behind Genji and Lúcio whips his weapon-arm up, blasting the last biker backwards. Genji stands, turning on his heel and dashing after him in a blur of green. Whatever happens outside, Lúcio imagines a pained grunt and some sort of death rattle as Genji strolls back in. He pulls Lúcio to his feet, hands lingering on his shoulders a few seconds longer than strictly necessary before he motions for Lúcio to put the visor back over his eyes.

> that was the last one  
> i will need this back

"Yeah, alright!" Lúcio laughs nervously as he returns the headgear, glancing over his shoulder as they leave the store and Genji leads the way back to the payload at a brisk jog.

The others seem to have already been briefed about his situation, Reinhardt moving to cover him and Tracer watching his back as Genji disappears up a wall and into the window of an office building. Lúcio knows he shouldn't have expected Genji to stick around, their specialties not particularly suited to close teamwork in the field. And Genji would sooner walk into the crosshairs of a sniper rifle than put his team at risk, but--

Feeling somewhat naked without his headset and unbearably distracted without some sort of beat regulating his attention, Lúcio pumps up the volume on his weapon, relying on the vibrations out of his amplifier to keep himself in focus. They reach the plane with no problem, loading the truck and strapping into a cramped passenger area near their cargo, six of them scattering across three short rows of wood-backed benches.

Lúcio settles in the last row once everyone's patted him on the shoulder and given him sympathetic looks; Genji slings his arm over the back of his seat and stays like that their entire flight back, his body warm and thrumming with energy.

* * *

 

"The damage is quite easy to fix," Angela says slowly, text scrolling up on Lúcio's headset as he sits in her office. His speech-to-text software was never particularly good, but he'd figured that it was better than trying to gesture his way through a conversation, and much faster than trying to write everything.

> the damage is kite peas to mix

"This isn't working," Lúcio sighs. "Can Genji come in?"

Dr. Ziegler nods, smiling softly as Lúcio pings Genji and the cyborg strolls in with only a few seconds' delay. "Is something wrong?"

"You may need to transcribe for me," Angela tells him, "although I believe I know the problem already. Please tell him that he will have his hearing back by the end of today, although he should be careful to take it easy for several weeks."

"I see," Genji says, falling into place next to Lúcio and crossing his arms over his chest as he fires off a few messages. "No problem."

> which app are you using?  
> overwatch has proprietary software i can install for you

> it's a free one  
> but the cyborg ninja extension is really great apparently  
> looks amazing too

Genji snorts, grateful that his visor keeps his eyeroll hidden. He types again:

> dr. ziegler says that you will be fine by the end of the day  
> but you should be careful for the next few weeks

"Really?" Lúcio asks out loud, sitting up and grinning. "I mean, I thought it'd be a couple weeks, at least."

Mercy retrieves her staff and an otoscope, then gestures for Lúcio to move to the patient's bed. He complies quickly, settling on the crinkly paper and holding still as she examines the inside of his ear. Reaching into a small refrigerator, she extracts some sort of vial and shakes it to loosen the substrate inside. "These are nanomachines that will repair the tears in your eardrums and reconstruct whatever it cannot knit. It should only take a few minutes to work, but again, you must be careful not to subject yourself to too much noise for some time."

Genji relays the message, hovering by the chair Lúcio had vacated while Angela uses a cotton swab to transfer the nanomachines to their target site in Lúcio's ear canal. She checks her watch while it works, corking the vial and returning it to the refrigerator under her sink.

"Can you hear me now?" Genji quips, grinning under his visor when Lúcio reacts to the sound, whipping his head around.

"Oh man," he sighs, turning to Angela with a relieved smile on his face, "I don't know how to thank you."

"How is the sound quality?"

"Uh," casting around for his sonic amplifier, which he quickly realizes he'd left in his room when he went in to retrieve a new headset, Lúcio turns to Genji. "Say something?"

"'The payload has reached the objective,'" says Genji, his tone as neutral as he can keep it.

"A little echo-y," Lúcio answers, "but pitch is fine."

"The echo should fade within one or two days as the lining stabilizes," Mercy explains, nodding as she inserts the otoscope back into his ear and inspects her handiwork. "And I have one last thing before you two leave."

"Yeah, doc. Shoot."

"Are you two involved?"

Genji's hand smacks into his visor and he drags his palm down its smooth surface. Lúcio feels his face heat up, expression stuck in a rictus smile, Dr. Ziegler's neutral face regarding both of them.

"I," Angela says, "will take that as a yes. If... and when... you two are intimate, please remember to prioritize safety."

"Oh my god," Lúcio groans, lowering his face to his knees.

"Sterilize everything," she tells them, looking stern.

Lúcio almost laughs at the stiff, strangled pitch to Genji's voice. "Noted, Dr. Ziegler."

"And Genji," she continues, taking his hands, "if you remember what we discussed some years ago, there are options--"

Genji frantically cuts her off, squeezing lightly in return and leaning forward, trying not to sound ungrateful but desperate to end the conversation. "I will keep that in mind, doctor. Thank you."

* * *

   


   


As they leave, they run into Mei and Zarya both sitting in the waiting room, heads together. Lúcio waves Zarya in, the two of them exchanging a fistbump as they pass. Zarya gives Genji a wary look and a wide berth as she steps into Angela's office. Mei stands up, waving cheerfully. "Hi Lúcio! Are you feeling better?"

"I'm feeling great!" Lúcio answers, trotting up to her and high-fiving the hand she raises. "What are you in for? Did you get hurt?"

"Oh, no-- I ran into Aleksandra on my way into the base, she pulled a muscle during her workout." Mei flexes her arm as she sits back down, looking both deeply impressed and concerned. "I thought I would come with her to see Dr. Ziegler, and check up on you while I was here!"

"Hey, thanks!" Lúcio looks touched at her concern, then determined to be friendly as he plops himself down into the waiting room seat next to her. "Are you doing anything after?"

"Yes, we are getting lunch. Would you like to join us?"

"Oh, nah," Lúcio declines easily, glancing sideways as Genji sits next to him, "we're just heading back to my room. Thanks, though!"

Mei raises her eyebrows, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.

"Lúcio," Genji sighs.

"Oh, did I say that out loud?" At Genji's silence, he sits up straight and bumps their shoulders. "Sorry, sorry! Keeping it on the DL is really tiring, though."

Genji doesn't seem particularly agitated about it and doesn't protest further-- Lúcio privately suspects that Genji'd kept quiet mainly to spare him embarrassment, despite having always given the impression of being someone who enjoys being shown off and bragged about, although why he'd think Lúcio would be embarrassed is its own can of worms.

Mei giggles, folding her still-mittened hands in her lap. "You know," she says, watching their exchange, "in Chinese, we would say the two of you have 'yuánfèn'." She draws the characters in the air for Genji, the strokes for 缘分 blurring together.

"What's it mean?" Lúcio asks, leaning forward in his seat. He isn't obvious about it but Genji had picked up on his ear for languages early on-- probably within their first week in Hanamura. His English flawless, Japanese accentless and his deficiencies in vocabulary easily worked around. Lúcio picks up languages lightning-fast, immersing himself in every new location as soon as humanly possible to absorb as much as he can until the next destination.

"It means fate," explains Mei, "and coincidence. You were drawn to each other from the beginning; that's fate. The events that continue to intertwine your lives, that is coincidence. It is not always romantic. For instance, we would say that Genji and Zenyatta also have 'yuánfèn'."

"Cool," Lúcio says, eyes wide.

"I am familiar with this concept," Genji says, voice teasing and light, "but did not expect to hear of it from a scientist."

"Even I know that there are many things that science cannot yet explain." Pressing a finger to her lips in a cheeky shushing gesture, Mei's eyes twinkle as she looks at the two of them. "I won't spread the news if you don't want me to, but if you do..."

"I am sure everyone will find out on their own time," Genji says, to an understanding nod. _It's not a secret, but don't tell._

With everything else out of the way, Mei checks the clock and decides that she has plenty of time to chat. "How long have you been together?" she asks. "I heard Genji was in Hanamura for a while after Numbani."

Lúcio answers, almost mumbling. "Couple weeks...?"

"Oh! I'm really happy for you two. Take care of each other, okay?"

Genji ducks his head, acknowledging her words. Lúcio looks up at him, unable to suppress a grin. "Yeah," he says, "you know we will."

* * *

 

Genji walks Lúcio back to his room, then loops around to the hangar to hose two days' worth of California dust out of his armor. He heads for the cafeteria next, swiping a few energy bars and a salad (Lúcio never has much of an appetite after long flights) before making his way back to his own room to drop off Ryuu Ichimonji and greet Zenyatta. That done, he returns to Lúcio's quarters, sitting on the edge of his single bed while the other man finishes his shower.

"How do you feel?" Genji asks when Lúcio steps out of the bathroom, his hair tightly bound in a towel, steam still rolling off his bare shoulders, gym shorts hanging low on slim, bony hips.

Lúcio grins, pausing in the doorway. His eyes flicker to the haul of food on his desk, expression softening. "Not bad, actually."

"I am glad you're all right."

"C'mere," Lúcio says, wrapping his arms around Genji's neck when the cyborg approaches, holding on tight while Genji hooks his hands behind his knees and hitches them up to his waist, bionic hands sliding up to support him by his thighs. Shifting for more purchase, Lúcio lets go of Genji's neck and disengages his visor, setting helm, mask and filter aside as he leans in for a quick kiss. "You're so good to me, gatinho."

Genji pulls back a bit, his expression playful and just the slightest bit disbelieving. "I should be the one saying that to you," he murmurs, pressing his lips to the underside of Lúcio's jaw.

Lúcio shakes his head, laughing, and drags Genji into another kiss, this one deep and slow.

"Hey," he sighs as they break apart and Genji carries him toward the bed, "you look tired. What's wrong?"

Pausing in the middle of the room, Genji seems to consider his words. "When we were in California," he answers, deciding that there's no use in trying to hide information from someone as perceptive as Lúcio, "I ran into Hanzo. He helped us again, but..."

"Just seeing him stresses you out?"

Genji nuzzles at his neck until Lúcio's displeased scowl fades away, resuming their trip to bed. "It's my problem."

"You know that ain't true, Genji."

"I will resolve it on my own time, Lúcio. But for now, while we are both 'sterilized'--"

"It's nuts that you can even joke about that--"

Genji lowers Lúcio to the mattress, carefully supporting his back and legs to avoid accidentally dropping him altogether. "I am sure," he says against the smooth skin of Lúcio's neck, "Dr. Ziegler will be glad to know we are taking her advice seriously."

Lúcio makes an incoherent sound as Genji presses rough, scarred lips to his collarbone, hands traveling methodically up his sides, down his arms, across his chest and down his stomach--

Genji falters when the towel around Lúcio's head comes loose, locs splaying out, some of them still laden with water. "Don't worry about it," Lúcio pants, noticing the hesitation, "I was gonna take it off anyway. Just don't let me go to sleep with my hair wet."

Genji resumes his excruciatingly slow exploration of Lúcio's body, fingers sure and deft as they trail over his skin, dipping into the curves and valleys of his muscles. When his thumb hooks into Lúcio's waistband and he sucks a slow trail down his chest, Lúcio grabs his hand. Genji looks up, curious and unsure, but he doesn't try to push any further, waiting patiently for Lúcio's breathing to calm and even out. 

"Is something wrong?" he asks.  


A flash of Genji's face, weary and anxious after encountering Hanzo again, appears in Lúcio's mind. The vague sense of hurry to his movements, still methodical and calculated but almost frantically so, sets Lúcio on edge and he sits up, prompting Genji to do the same. "This doesn't feel right, Genji. I can't do this."

"Should I... do something differently?"

"No!" Cupping his face, Lúcio drags Genji forward and plants a firm kiss to his lips, one hand settling on the nape of his neck and the other palm pressing flat against his chest. "You're-- you're great, you're perfect, but you're not... an object, y'know? Every time it's just been me enjoying myself, and you... can't. I can't use you like this, Genji."

Genji cocks his head to the side, steady and patient as ever. "I am enjoying myself, Lúcio."

"You don't deserve to be treated like this, is what I'm saying."

"Do you see me as an object when we are doing this?"

"'Course not."

A shrug. "Then I don't see a problem."

"It still feels wrong," Lúcio insists. "I can't explain it."

Genji taps an idle beat out on the hinge joint of Lúcio's prosthetic knee, a rhythm the DJ recognizes as from the song he'd composed for D.Va, or at least one very similar to it. "Do you want to try something new?" Genji asks, mouth skewing sideways into a mischievous smirk.

"Is that gonna change anything?"

Genji's voice drops an octave, taking on a note of authority he rarely uses in private. "Turn over."

Every dissenting thought flies out of Lúcio's head. "I-- uh-- yeah." He swallows, turning on his stomach, arms folded under him as Genji regards the smooth curve of his back. "Yeah, I-- damn, how'd you do that? You even know what you're doing?"

"I am not a--"

"With a guy, I mean." When Genji doesn't answer, Lúcio pushes himself up on his elbows and looks over his shoulder. "Genji?"

"I am googling."

"Oh my god."

"The connection here is weak," Genji sighs, "and I believe Song-kun is torrenting movies."

"Aw," Lúcio yells into a pillow, "D.Va! C'mon!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to mention, but the dialogue in brackets signifies hanzo and genji switching to japanese...!


	7. Chapter 7

Genji hasn't dreamt of his childhood in years, but he basks in the warmth of this particular memory. He holds an injured sparrow in the soft cup of his palms, its feathers fluffed, neck retracted into its body, hot and alive in his hands. Wounded birds rarely survive but he remembers that this one did after he'd spent days nursing it back to health, ignoring tutors and Hanzo alike, all of them telling him to leave it alone and let it die. Their father had, as ever, laughed and indulged him. 

He'd imagined that it returned to the Shimada estate for years after, building its nest in sakura trees on the property, rearing brood after brood of chicks. 

He looks up for a second when a shadow passes over him and the soft, living thing in his hands is suddenly cold and stiff, no heavier than a fledgling bird but thin and sharp. His visor. 

Something closes around his throat, Hanzo's fingers grinding down on the delicate bones in his neck, tendons and arteries warping as they give under the pressure of his brother's grip. 

_Well,_ Genji considers as his breathing cuts off, edges of his vision darkening and blurring as his eyes slide shut, _this one is new._

Something roars in his ears, the inside of his eyelids flashing green. Genji's eyes snap open, flickering down to Hanzo's face, the grim set of his mouth. He pulls his knees up, easily done with all his weight suspended between Hanzo's hand and the wall behind him, and kicks downward. The claws on his feet catch on something giving, fibrous and fleshy. He tears through Hanzo's legs-- once, twice, dropping to his knees when Hanzo stumbles back with a pained grunt, calf muscles shredded to the bone. 

Power and fear drive him forward, giving him enough strength to climb the courtyard wall with one arm hanging uselessly at his side, his grip slippery and ribs creaking with every meter he advances. Spatters of blood paint the ground behind him, the lights of Shimada Castle warm and soft. 

Genji turns, one last look at his childhood home. Hanzo ahead of him, the sheer drop down a cliff marking the edge of the Shimada estate behind.

「The dragon consumes my enemy!」

* * *

"I'm thinking," Lúcio murmurs, gently shaking Genji awake, "seeing your brother gives you nightmares."

It takes him a long moment to orient himself, no HUD to give him a location, temperature, time-- just Lúcio, warm and concerned, standing by the bed, hovering over him. The room is dark except for the lights from his body, all of his systems whirring at full power. "That," Genji wheezes as he surfaces from the dream, clutching at his neck as he swings his legs over the edge of the mattress and sits up, "is possible. Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

"I'm alright." Lúcio grounds him, crawls into his lap, straddling his hips as Genji reaches for his visor. "I'm alright, you just-- started thrashing around."

"Did I hurt you?" Genji asks again, the night-vision in his helmet flickering on to show Lúcio wincing slightly as he shifts. Maybe a crick in his neck, he thinks in a haze of panic, maybe a concussion. That, and: _There were so many other things Hanzo could have said to summon his dragons._

_Location: Gibraltar, 2:17am. Temperature: 24 C._

Genji breathes.

"You might've kicked me off the bed."

Genji stops breathing. 

He simultaneously withdraws and reaches, shoulders pulling back while his hands close on Lúcio's arms, searching for breaks or sore spots; voice a stricken, guilt-laden hiss. "I'm sorry."

"Hey," Lúcio murmurs, snaking his arms around Genji's neck and pressing in close, his fingers resting on the back of his helmet. "Hey, stop. Can I?" At a nod, he removes the visor and filter, palms cupping Genji's jaw with such tenderness that the cyborg nearly melts, frayed nerves turning to liquid under Lúcio's careful touch. "I'm fine. I'm okay. I'm not even gonna bruise. Are _you_ okay?"

Genji closes his eyes, turns his head to kiss the callused palm of Lúcio's hand. "It was just a dream."

"It _wasn't_ just a dream."

He's right. It was also a memory; Genji's pretty sure he knows now how Hanzo's legs had ended up as they are. "If I see him again," he says, curling his arms around Lúcio's waist and dropping his head to a lean shoulder, "I will return to my room. Maybe tonight, as well."

"Or," Lúcio says, letting go and gesturing hard enough that he would've overbalanced right out of Genji's lap if it weren't for the solid arms anchoring him at the small of his back, "you could move a bunk in here. Not that you'd use it most of the time." 

"I am sorry, Lúcio."

"Didn't I just tell you to stop?"

More than the nightmare itself, Genji had known that thrashing around in his sleep could disturb anyone nearby-- he'd dinged Zenyatta once early on, when the monk tried to wake him, but after that he'd learned to allow Genji to come out of it on his own. The dreams had become infrequent and tame enough that he didn't think Lúcio would be at risk, but he'd clearly overestimated his own progress. An amateur mistake. "You should not have to deal with this."

"I'm here 'cause I want to be, gatinho." Lúcio curls his arms around Genji's neck again, dragging him closer. "Let's go back to sleep."

Genji doesn't move for a solid minute, eyes shut, counting each steady beat of Lúcio's heart. When Lúcio yawns, Genji pulls away and straightens his back. "I do not think I can," he says, smiling softly. "Get some rest."

"You not sleeping is gonna be a lot worse in the long run than me getting booped off the bed," Lúcio points out.

He's right, but however much Genji's nerves have settled for the moment the idea that he might wake Lúcio again with another kick (or worse) means he won't be sleeping at all for the rest of the night. "I do not always remember the limits of a human body," he concedes, acknowledging the parts of himself that absolutely do need rest. Still, compared to Overwatch's heyday their missions are infrequent and small-scale; he'll have plenty of time to relax. Genji raises a hand, cups Lúcio's face, thumb stroking lightly across a sharp cheekbone. "People seem so fragile to me now."

"If you can't sleep," Lúcio says, turning his head to nuzzle into Genji's palm, planting a kiss on the textured padding and hanging on to his wrist to hold it in place, "I can think of something else we can do."

"You need to rest," says Genji, his eyes tracking every leisurely movement of Lúcio's lips, eyes narrowed. He can barely feel it, but muscle memory-- refined from birth as it was-- supplies the sensation. His shoulder vents twist open, a familiar internal temperature alert no doubt popping up on his visor.

Lúcio kisses his way across titanium knuckles, eyes roving over each joint as he distractedly wonders who'd been the one to fit Genji's pieces together. When he sucks Genji's thumb into his mouth, the cyborg exhales through his teeth, every nerve attuned to the pressure, warm and wet, of Lúcio's tongue over the sensory node embedded in his fingertip. He makes a sound from the back of his throat, teeth catching on the joint behind Genji's first knuckle.

Genji closes his eyes, takes an unsteady breath. He manages to grind out, "You are not tired from earlier?"

Lúcio pulls off, planting a soft kiss against the matte pad of Genji's thumb. "You can't wear me out for long," he quips. Just before resuming his attempt to murder Genji through overheating, he asks, "Can you feel this?"

"It is... different from how it used to be."

"'Ifferen' 'oof?"

_'Different good?'_

Genji removes his thumb from Lúcio's mouth and leans forward instead, dragging him into a slow kiss as he shifts, lowering Lúcio onto his back while he's too groggy and overwhelmed to resist. Breaking away, Genji drags the covers up to his shoulders, leaning on the lump he makes under the blanket. "Go back to sleep."

"You're gonna kiss me like that," Lúcio pants, squirming under Genji's weight, "and just take off?"

"I will see you in the morning."

* * *

Losing something like half his organic body had left Genji uninterested in plenty of the things he used to relish; he'd even opted out of hormone replacements when Mercy asked nearly a decade ago, painfully aware of how distracting his hormones could be, how much trouble they get him into. He'd spent ten years in complete control of his body, calmer and more precise than he'd ever been in his youth.

Genji reaches the old rendezvous point in under ten minutes, no longer jittery from his nightmare but keyed up for entirely different reasons, not least of them being Lúcio, and Lúcio's mouth, and Lúcio's _eyes_ , and his voice, that little moan vibrating through his perfect teeth into the metal of Genji's gauntlets. 

His systems still haven't cooled, something curled tight in the pit of his stomach. Genji's no stranger to arousal but pacing under the stars doesn't scratch that itch-- he hadn't even known it was possible without the necessary equipment (so to speak), and he vaguely regrets, not for the first time, that he'd declined some of the more advanced augmentations available to him at the time. He'd wanted to be back on his feet, dismantling the Shimadas as quickly as possible; not recovering from an operation to restore his dick.

Out of earshot of anyone in the base, Genji indulges in a juvenile growl, kicking a small rock over the edge of the plateau. Sitting cross-legged on the scrubby grass, he places both hands on his knees and consciously slows down his breathing. 

Then, cheating:

Settings > Core > Force cool down.

It doesn't take long for his armor to finish venting, dropping his temperature to well below a comfortable degree. He stays on the plateau, visor removed to take the green tint out of his vision; he even takes off the filter, refreshed by the cool air before salt from the bay begins to sting the insides of his nose. The moon is bright enough to cast a shadow, lighting up the edge of the fluffy cloud passing in front of it. A dense column of stars disappears into the horizon. 

Genji's seen this view a good handful of times-- joking with McCree before an assignment, standing at attention as Reyes briefed the unit. Blackwatch conducted drills sometimes, rousing all its members and willing adjuncts to meet on the plateau to run through night exercises. Not every memory of Overwatch is pleasant, but he vividly remembers how much more at ease Blackwatch agents were with him than operatives under Overwatch proper. 

Flexing his hands, Genji stares for a long moment at his palms. The material is textured for traction, designed to register pressure and temperature; it's been several years since he'd switched them out. They're now worn thin, sensory nodes in most places no longer functional. In some ways it's not so different from the hands he'd have if they were still flesh and blood: scarred, callused, the evidence of a lifetime's worth of accumulated experiences. They're due for a replacement. 

Genji clips his visor back into place.

He stays seated for a while, sinking almost instinctively into a soothing meditative state, systems shifting with his state of mind to run on a lower level.

* * *

At five in the morning, a proximity alert trips. 

Genji cracks open his eyes and looks down, smiling indulgently at a small bird perched on his knee, picking at something in the joint. He's been neglecting his gaskets, too, probably overlooking some crumb that had fallen in there. As if sensing his awareness, the bird gives up and flits away, landing behind a bush. 

Standing, Genji stretches his back, his legs, rolls his shoulders and steps to the edge of the mesa facing the Watchpoint. A small square of light draws his eye, the med bay still lit, and he hops off the plateau, making his way back to base at a leisurely clip. 

Mercy is slumped over her desk when he lets himself into her office, her arms folded under her cheek, hair mussed. Gently shaking her awake, Genji waits for Angela to sit up before he speaks. "Late night, Dr. Ziegler?"

Both of their eyes flicker to the small puddle of drool on her paperwork, Mercy quickly shuffling the ream of patient records under a manila folder before she clears her throat. "What time is it?"

"Five in the morning," he answers, extending a hand. "I will walk you back to your room."

Taking it, Mercy stands, leading the way back to her quarters with her arm hooked through his. About halfway there she yawns, then looks at Genji, perplexed. "I know why I am awake at this hour," she says, "but what are you doing up, Genji? Are you having trouble sleeping again?"

"I was meditating," he says, evading the question, "and saw the light from your office." 

While in Overwatch, Genji had often made it a point to visit Angela when he caught her awake at some unusual hour-- sometimes to remind her of the time and to get some rest and other times, when he couldn't budge her from her chair, to keep her company. It was, after all, the least he could do for the doctor who'd saved his life.

"Oh! Did you want to see me for something? Is everything all right?"

He almost asks her about the 'options' she'd referred to earlier in the day, but instead Genji turns his palms upward so she can see the wear on his hands. "I wanted to ask if my repair kits are still stored in the base."

Angela leans in for a better look, tutting under her breath. As an active agent, Genji had been meticulous. With the survival of his fellow operatives on the line, he took no chances with a faulty sensor or damaged lining, performing maintenance and checks before and after every mission, dropping into Angela's office frequently to have unfamiliar problems checked out. "I'm sure they are still around," she tells him. "We never disposed of them, since I thought you might contact me for them eventually."

"I'm sorry," he says, thinking of all the calls he hadn't taken, all the messages he'd ignored until attempts to reach him finally ceased, "to have made you worry." One of the only points of contact they'd had since he left Overwatch was after Morrison and Reyes destroyed the Swiss HQ, and he'd sent her a brief message saying only that if she needed his help, she could contact him. He'd received a curt 'thank you' and no requests for assistance-- probably for the better, considering he wasn't in a mindset to help anyone at the time.

"Don't be. I am much happier to see you doing so well now." A pause. She looks at him again, this time thoughtful. "I'll admit, I never expected that you and Lúcio..."

Laughing softly, Genji shakes his head. "You're not alone in that."

"I didn't mean it that way, Genji." Angela stops them in front of her room, physically turning him in place to face her. She gives him a smile, gentle but firm. "We are all very lucky to have you in our lives. That you and Lúcio get on so well, it almost makes a girl jealous."

Without missing a beat, Genji answers, "I always have time for you, Dr. Ziegler."

Mercy smacks him on the shoulder. "Do you want me to help you find those kits? You should wait for me--"

"No, you should sleep." He ushers her inside, leaning briefly on the doorjamb to ask, "They would be in the warehouse?"

"That is where I left them."

"Thank you." The tone of his voice, as always, reads to Mercy like he is referring to more than just the information. "Good night, Dr. Ziegler."

* * *

Genji finds an entire stockpile of maintenance kits in the warehouse, not all of them his. He swipes up polish, spare gaskets, padding for his gauntlets, lubrication for his joints, and a few canisters of expensive fuel Overwatch had used for jet engines, for Zenyatta. It'd been years since he'd done a proper rehaul; being out of service meant that much of the damage accrued from periodic assignments and constant engagements with hostiles weren't an issue, and the everyday wear and tear was far less likely to diminish his function. 

Zenyatta wakes from sleep mode when he enters their room, as if instinctively attuned to his presence. Genji sets the fuel on the desk (which neither of them use), and tosses the rest of his haul onto a nearby chair before settling on the edge of his bed. "Master," he says in greeting, ducking his head while the lights on Zenyatta's head brighten. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did," Zenyatta answers, his voice warm. "You did not."

Popping his visor off, Genji switches on the light on his bedside table and flashes the omnic a wry grin. "I can't hide anything from you, master."

"Are you doing maintenance?" Zenyatta asks, having seen and helped him replace synthetic muscle before, the material available in many large cities with specialty workshops. The inlays on his hands, however, were a collaboration between Torbjörn and Mercy-- Overwatch special order. Genji flips a small six-sided screwdriver out of a slot in his armor and fits its head into a screw at the inside base of his left hand, where it joins his wrist. He spins it counter-clockwise until it comes loose.

"Yes," Genji says, setting aside the screwdriver and using his teeth to pry up the edge of the padding on his hand and fingers, pulling them off with a steady application of pressure, "I may need help replacing the right side."

"Of course," Zenyatta hums, looking on curiously. "Orb...?"

Genji rips open the packet labeled LHAND_SGEN20600705, nudging the used palm and finger linings aside and pressing the new ones into place. Picking up the screwdriver again, he looks at Zenyatta. "Now, please."

Harmony orbs don't dull pain so much as fortify his ability to tolerate it-- no actual injuries to treat, after all, just nerves registering a new interface. Genji waits for the orb to properly take hold before he grits his teeth and retightens the screw. It always takes a few minutes, cycling through an extreme range of pressures and temperatures as it calibrates-- Genji curls himself forward, over his hand while it burns and freezes, unable to suppress a growl but accustomed enough to it that he doesn't scream. 

"This seems," Zenyatta starts, sounding genuinely distressed, "much more painful than usual."

Genji squeezes his eyes shut, a pang of guilt twisting in his chest for forcing Zenyatta to watch; he often forgets how young the monk is. "They are hundreds of times more sensitive," he gasps as he finishes calibrating, his shoulders quivering, sweat dripping off the tip of his nose from what few pores haven't been permanently damaged. The physical sensation fades quickly enough, but the memory of it stays seared in his mind. "I am lucky to have you here, master."

Zenyatta floats to him, unfolding his legs to sit on the edge of the mattress. "Genji--"

"Last one."

Before he can get to work, someone knocks on the door, toeing it open all the way. "Genji?"

Genji grits his teeth, powering through the hesitation gnawing at the back of his mind as he disconnects his right hand. "Lúcio," he calls back, not looking up, "did I wake you?"

Lúcio pauses, quickly taking in the scene. He's still only half-dressed, the scarf he usually wears to sleep unbound and slung across his shoulders, hair tied loosely back with a stray lock. "Am I interrupting something? I thought I heard..." 

Shaking his head, Genji tells him, "I am almost done."

Lúcio settles on Genji's other side. He reaches for a new pack of padding, rips it open and waits for Genji to extend a hand before he pops the new lining into place. This time, Zenyatta takes the screwdriver and Genji buries his face against Lúcio's shoulder like a child about to be vaccinated, muffling a groan into his skin while the calibration proceeds. 

Lúcio's inspecting one of the discarded linings when Genji's arm finally slips around his waist, the cyborg's other hand clasped tightly in both of Zenyatta's. He grins, meeting Zenyatta's gaze over Genji's head, then slings one arm over Genji's shoulders, laughing gently. "You're sweaty, gatinho. And--" snorting, "-- handsy!"

"It has been a long time since I could feel so much," Genji answers, voice a low growl in Lúcio's ear. He pulls back, fingers idly wandering up Lúcio's side, sliding over bare skin and prodding occasionally at the hard muscle underneath before his hand finally settles, firm and possessive, on Lúcio's hip. "Thank you. I am glad you're here."

"I didn't do much."

Some days, with the three of them together, Genji doesn't seem to know who to focus on, often trying to juggle two conversations, to split his attention evenly. He'd spent so many years with only himself, then Zenyatta, that balancing anyone else into the equation is a struggle-- though not one that he's opposed to undertaking. He gives Lúcio a look, as if assuring him that they'll revisit that idea later, and turns to Zenyatta. "And you, master. Having you with me always sets me at ease."

Zenyatta pats him gently on the back of his hand before letting go. "I," he says, voice light and full of affection as he stands, "will leave the two of you alone."

Genji frowns. "You're going?"

Folding his legs and floating out of the room to begin his day, Zenyatta says over his shoulder, "You do not need to watch over me, Genji. We are all quite safe in Gibraltar."

Genji keeps his eyes on the door for a while after the monk disappears from sight, shoulders drooping slightly. 

"You're pouting." Lúcio sits up, kisses Genji on the cheek. "Wait-- don't stop, it's cute! You look like that when we're not together, too?"

Exasperated, Genji leans away, picking up empty packaging and used padding and dumping it all into the trashcan before he loops his arms around Lúcio's waist again and rolls them both over. He keeps Lúcio's back against his chest, both of them facing the wall. "Yes," he sighs, shifting to press his lips to the skin between Lúcio's shoulder blades, kissing his way down the graceful ridge of spine. "I do."

Lúcio rolls over onto his back, Genji rearranging himself easily to accommodate the new position, careful not to let his weight drop. "Not gonna leave me hanging again, are you gatinho?"

"I could stop now," Genji murmurs, grinning against Lúcio's collarbone, "if you do not want to take the chance."

"Don't you _dare_."

* * *

"I forgot," Genji sighs, hand over his mouth as Lúcio drags his shorts back on, "again." 

"Sinto muito! I should've reminded you." Lúcio sweeps his locs back, fanning them against the back of his neck to wick away a sheen of sweat. He doesn't actually look repentant, sitting cross-legged on the bed, eyes half-lidded, movements still languid and slow. "I wasn't exactly, uh, thinking straight either, though. 'S it been a problem?" 

"No." Sounding pained: "I do not think we need to worry about it, but I will check with Dr. Ziegler."

Lúcio scoots closer, trying not to imagine that conversation with Mercy. He's sure Genji would ask more eloquently than 'hey if I were to give Lúcio a blowjob and swallowed instead of spat, is that gonna clog up my internals?' but he can't actually imagine how else anyone might phrase it. "Want some water?"

"I can get it."

"No, let me. But also give me like, five seconds."

Lúcio counts out five very slow seconds before he hauls himself to his feet, shuffling out of Genji's room and across the hall for a bottle of water and returning with a shirt. He hands the water to Genji, then settles with his back to the wall as he dresses. Genji empties half the bottle, passing the rest back for Lúcio to drain completely. "Thanks," he says.

Lobbing the empty plastic into the trash bin, Lúcio gestures for Genji to sit next to him. "Where'd you go earlier, anyway?"

"Dr. Ziegler's office," Genji answers as he joins him, "I felt it was about time to do maintenance, and she was the one who put my spares in storage."

The response doesn't sit well with Lúcio-- after all, who asks a doctor for supplies at five in the morning? "That's not all, is it?"

"I was also going to ask if there was a way to," a pause as Genji gestures briefly at his armor, "alter my body to be more like how it was. In the end I decided not to, at least for now." He might consider it for the future, but with Overwatch's reformation, the possibility of taking so much downtime seems to be a distant dream. 

Lúcio lets that hang between them for a few seconds, reaching for Genji's hand and turning it palm-up in his own, fingers tracing across the seams and ridges in the material. "Didn't you say that you've accepted what you are?"

A gentle scoff. "I am beginning to see its limitations."

Lúcio is rarely _dead serious_ , but he looks at Genji, catching his eye, his voice devoid of the usual lighthearted, joking tone. "Was it something I said?"

"No."

"Genji, whatever it was--"

"It was not," says Genji, extracting his hand from Lúcio's grip and pointedly thumbing his bottom lip, "something you _said_." He'd been itching to break contact anyway, the light touches across his palms setting off certain very recent memories and agitating already-overstimulated nerve endings. It'll be another few days before the sensations dull to their intended level, if the spares are in the same condition they were when he was still an active agent. 

"Did you not want me to?"

"You did not do anything to make me uncomfortable, Lúcio." Crossing his arms over his chest, Genji slouches back and looks at the far corner of the room. "It was my own reaction that was unexpected."

"Oh," says Lúcio. Then, eyes widening: " _Oh_. Wouldn't it be a really big operation? And it'll hurt like hell for a long time."

"Yes. And undergoing such a procedure because I am frustrated also seems to be a bad idea."

Lúcio cracks a smile, still hesitant but reassured enough to quip, "Decisions you make 'cause you're thirsty usually are."

"Is that what we are calling it now?"

"We've been callin' it that for sixty years, man." Lúcio laughs, eyes on Genji's face as the cyborg seems to visibly file that away in some sort of internal dictionary of English slang. Serious again, he puts a hand on Genji's knee. "But if it's what you want, you know I'm with you, right?"

"I thought you might like it." Genji's fingers tap idly against the shell covering his upper arm, as if emphasizing the non-organic parts of his body. "Being with someone more human. Above everything else, that would have decided it."

"I like you just the way you are, gatinho."

"I knew you would say that."

"Well, I mean it too." Lúcio shakes his head, leaning into Genji's side until the cyborg uncrosses his arms, lifts one and curls it around his shoulders. "What you are, what you were, what you might be. I just wish I could _do_ something for you, you know?"

"You--" Genji's voice cracks and he cuts off, taking a second to collect himself. He doesn't look at Lúcio. "You are doing more for me already," he says softly, "than you will ever know." 

"Don't say that, Genji."

"I have accepted this life." Bumping Lúcio's chin up, Genji turns his face so they can meet eyes. He moves again, hand cupping his jaw, thumb stroking over Lúcio's cheek, his tone painfully sincere. "That I could have known you in it, is my good luck."

Lúcio grins, reaching for Genji's wrist as he turns his head and plants a kiss in the center of his palm. "You're so needlessly cool sometimes."

"I think a cyborg ninja," Genji says, mouth pulled sideways in a smug grin, "is by definition, needlessly cool."

* * *

Lúcio wakes up slowly, rising through a haze of warmth. The curtains are half-drawn, sun illuminating the space but not shining in his eyes, blanket _tucked_ around his shoulders where it isn't tangled up in his limbs. He shifts, wriggling into a position to track a background murmur-- across the room, to the door. Genji's standing just outside, leaning on the wall, fingers pressed to where his ear would be under the helmet. He stays silent for a while, then rattles off an acknowledgment, sighing as he steps back inside. 

Lúcio can't see his face, but he imagines a smile to go with the one in Genji's voice. 

"You're awake."

Scooting back to make room along the edge of the bed, Lúcio nudges Genji with a foot as the cyborg sits. "You got a message?" he asks, nudging harder.

A nod. Genji catches him by the foot and pulls it into his lap, then the other one, until Lúcio's calves are resting across his armored thighs. "Operation to recover supplies from a complex in Dorado."

"When're we leaving?" asks Lúcio, sitting up, pulling the blanket tight around his shoulders and burying his nose into the fabric. It smells like Genji, for all that he probably doesn't spend all that much time in his own bed. Ozone and sword polish. Lúcio would've considered it unpleasant not two months ago-- clinical, mechanical. Lately he finds himself smiling at summer storms and computers running a little too hot, the scent of electricity crackling through the air. "Tomorrow?"

"Three days from now," Genji replies, sticking to codenames, "the team will consist of Zarya, Mercy, McCree, Pharah, Mei and myself."

"I can come with."

"You," Genji chides, "could permanently damage your hearing if you return to the field before you are fully recovered." Drumming his fingers against Lúcio's shin, he cocks his head, voice tinged with its usual good humor. "Try not to miss me too much."

Lúcio blinks at him, still groggy, too relaxed to try and wake up, too warm to shuffle off the blanket and expose himself to the air-conditioned room. Laughing, charmed by the cheeky confidence in Genji's voice, he shoots back, "You know that's impossible, right?" 

Genji sighs, shoulders rising and falling dramatically. "I did say 'try'."

"I should get out of bed," Lúcio mumbles after a second, pulling the blanket up further and nestling into it. "What time is it?"

"Ten in the morning."

"We missed breakfast, huh?"

"There is always food in the base," Genji tells him. He hadn't needed it, but he's watched Tracer sneak into the kitchens in the middle of the night, emerging with an armful of fruit (and sometimes peanut butter, presumably to share with Winston) enough times to know. 

"So we can go find some anytime," Lúcio confirms, pulling his legs out of Genji's lap.

"I will show you where."

"Then for now," Lúcio says, rearing up onto his knees, blanket fanning out like wings as he throws his arms out, tackling Genji and dragging him under the covers, "we go back to sleep!"


	8. Chapter 8

On the truck to Dorado, Genji hunkers down in his usual shadowy corner, arms crossed over his chest as the rest of their group chats. They've already been briefed, their simulations executed well, team synergy established. Zarya gives him the occasional suspicious look, but seems more at ease when the rest of their group leaves him alone, most of them familiar with his need to focus before an assignment. Pharah sits between himself and McCree, her Raptora suit taking up most of the bench, listening to the conversation but not participating in it. Mei's across from him, ankles crossed, hands folded on her knees. Mercy's driving.

Lúcio streams into his channel from the Overwatch safe house some half hour away from their mission site, his mic catching the sound of Torbjörn at work in the background. On a whim, Genji sends him a message.

> can you run a trace on hanzo's earpiece?

He hears tapping from the other end.

> who do you think i am? 

> would you rather not invade his privacy

> no i mean of course i can, it's nuts that you thought i couldn't

Genji snorts, forgetting for a second that he's with the team. No one but Mei seems to notice, pushing her glasses up her nose as she flashes him a smile. She makes a heart-shape with her hands, mittens warping it somewhat, then mimes picking up a phone. Genji puts a finger to his visor, over his lips. She gives him a thumbs-up. 

> i never had any doubt about your skill, lucio

> flatterer  
> yeah he's in mexico  
> ... and putting a reverse trace on me, oops  
> how does he know where we're going????

> he  
> may have access to my official communications  
> i should change my password  
> it is still the default assigned to me

> .................................................  
> your password is still peanutbutter

> it's fine, send him our coordinates.

The convoy trundles to a stop, back door hissing open. Genji hops out first, conveniently placed to exit, and offers his hand to Mei as she steps down. Once they've all gathered in a loose circle outside a dilapidated LumériCo construction site, McCree tips his hat back and glances around, motioning for Angela to begin the briefing.

"I presume you have all already read your mission dossiers," she says, "but I will go over the plan once again just in case." Zarya and McCree avoid her eyes, but they listen attentively while she describes the assignment: retrieving power cores from LumériCo's first attempt at constructing a power plant in Dorado. The company bought up several tracts of land, one of them close to the center of Dorado, but couldn't complete the building before Los Muertos made it a part of their agenda to drive them out. They'd moved several tons of equipment into the complex before shutting down and shifting to city outskirts, but were prevented from retrieving it all while Los Muertos operates in the area.

Since Overwatch hasn't lost its technically illegal status in most of the world, Winston had chosen to conduct the operation at night, to lower the chance of being spotted. "As usual," Mercy concludes, "Genji and Jesse will scout the complex, Fareeha patrols the border. Zarya and Mei will move the equipment. If any of you require healing, call me if I have not already arrived to your location."

"If we wanted to move equipment," Zarya says, patting Mei on the shoulder to show that she doesn't have anything against the woman, "we should have Reinhardt here, as we did in simulations."

"You are not wrong," Mercy sighs, "but Commandant Wilhelm strained his back." 

Genji excuses himself from the briefing, now that it's turned to other subjects. Turning his focus back to Lúcio, he prods him for an update. 

> where is he?

> closing in  
> he's stopped about half a km away to your north  
> are you gonna go?

Genji considers it: McCree is just as competent a scout as he is, though he doesn't quite have Genji's speed or mobility. Of course, the faster they finish a sweep, the sooner Genji can take some downtime, and Hanzo certainly can't leave Mexico faster than Overwatch can. 

> no, the mission takes priority

> be safe out there genji

> and you

* * *

Jesse and Genji confirm that the place is empty before retreating to the entrance and leading Mei and Zarya through the maze of scrap metal still scattered throughout. McCree and Genji are both accustomed to moving in darkness, relying on Genji's running lights to navigate, but Snowball casts a beam wide and bright enough to light up entire half-finished rooms as they pass. 

Zarya eats her earlier words the moment Mei begins to work, at the first massive beam obstructing their path. There's enough space that the agents can clear it with no trouble, but placed so that passage would be impossible with equipment in tow. Zarya cracks her knuckles and prepares to lift the beam, but Mei motions for her to step back and she aims her endothermic blaster at the floor under it, raising an ice wall to push it up. McCree nudges it to lean against a pillar, secured by its own weight, and when Mei drops her wall they've opened a path.

"Work smart," Mei quips, "not hard."

The three thousand or so kilograms worth of power cores packed neatly in crates seem almost ludicrous for just Zarya to move, and they don't find any heavy machinery to assist with the pickup. Genji and Jesse seem mildly dismayed at the thought of having to move the crates individually, or prying them open to transport them in more manageable numbers, while Zarya begins warming up, stretching her arms and legs. Mei, unfazed, promptly blasts a path of ice from the base of one crate to the door they entered from. 

"Ah," says Genji, catching on first, "clever!"

Waiting for the surface of the ice to melt a bit, Mei bumps the first crate with her hip and slides it several meters down the track with almost zero effort expended. "We will be doing this a lot," she explains, "so it's best if you save your strength, okay Zarya?"

Zarya nods, her eyes shining in awe but her mouth curved slightly down in disappointment that she won't have a chance to show off her strength. "Understood."

"Professor'd be on this operation even if the big fella was here," Jesse says, grinning. "I never woulda thought of something like this in a million years."

Snowball leads the charge, paving an icy road for the crates as all four agents walk them out of the complex. Zarya pushes a load of nearly a dozen containers, stacked on top of each other; Genji takes a more conservative seven, cybernetic enhancements boosting his strength. McCree takes four (grumbling while Genji teases him), and Mei pushes her two at the front of the line, directing Snowball and maintaining their ice track with occasional blasts from her weapon. 

The truck is still waiting for them when they reach the rendezvous point. Pharah touches down next to Genji, jostling him playfully with her elbow as they both reach for the same crate. Genji backs off, feigning a limp, but they share a quick laugh and lift the box together, neither of their arms long enough to span the width of the crate with any reliable stability. 

"Team mecha," Genji says once they've loaded their cargo, offering her a fist to bump before they get back to work together.

Jesse fumbles with a box on his own for a while until Mei steps in, supporting the other end and shifting it into the transport with surprising strength for someone who barely clears McCree's shoulder. Zarya manages her entire haul on her own, lifting each individual box almost as if they were full of packing peanuts and bubble wrap rather than several hundred pounds each of delicate equipment.

After loading the truck, McCree hops into the driver's seat and regards the rest of the team. "Room for one," he says, jerking a thumb toward the passenger side. "Everyone else's gonna have to walk. Professor?"

Shaking her head, Mei holds both hands up, palms out. She's sweating, still in a thick jacket she'd worn in lieu of her usual fur parka. "Oh-- no, I can't ride when everyone else is walking! It's fine!"

Exchanging a look with the rest of the team, Zarya physically lifts Mei by her waist and places her securely in the passenger seat as McCree starts the engine. "You saved us all much strength," she says firmly, "so now you conserve energy. Is science." 

"Oh," Mei says softly as Zarya closes the door, "I don't think..."

" _Science_ ," Zarya says, more insistently. She moves to the back of the trailer to retrieve her particle cannon, slinging its strap over her shoulder and rejoining the team. Mei smiles, waving at them as McCree pulls away.

"I will scout ahead," Pharah says once the truck turns the corner up ahead. The wings on her Raptora suit lock into place as she pulls her visor down, kicking up into the air to land on the corner of a nearby roof. Mercy gives Genji and Zarya a quick wave before latching a tether to the other woman and following her up. Genji nods at Aleksandra, shifting his focus to his HUD for a second.

> where is he?

> um  
> right on top of you

Next to him, Zarya lets a charge fly from her particle cannon into the construction site, the shell exploding upon contact. "Someone is here," she says, eyes narrowed at the skeletal frame of the incomplete ziggurat they had just vacated. Genji privately curses his own inattentiveness, but holds up a hand to stop her from firing again.

"I will check it out," he says. Better mobility for chasing a shadow around beams so high in the air. "Go ahead without me."

"If you need backup," Zarya answers, looking relieved that he won't insist on traveling together, "call me."

"You as well. Thank you."

* * *

Genji tracks Hanzo down at the very top of the building, sitting with his feet dangling off the end of a beam. Hanzo doesn't turn as he approaches, only cocking his head to the side as Genji calls out to him. 「I hope my e-mails are entertaining for you, brother.」

「I didn't realize you were capable of sounding like a professional,」 Hanzo snipes back. Genji settles behind him, mimicking his brother's position on the crosspiece he'd chosen. The moon hangs low and bright, illuminating the city with a cool, gentle glow below and around them. 「You,」 Hanzo says, sounding just the slightest bit amused, 「have to change your password.」

「I know. I can't have you reading all my sexts.」

Hanzo snorts in disgust, elbowing Genji hard enough to send him toppling over. He remembers belatedly that they're sitting hundreds of feet in the air, but Genji hooks a hand on the edge of the beam and swings himself back up, aiming a kick at the small of Hanzo's back. He knocks Hanzo off the girder entirely, the other man landing on his feet, soft and graceful, several meters down on the next set of rafters. 

「Ah,」 Genji says as Hanzo nocks an arrow and draws his bow, 「brother, it was just a joke--」 He laughs as he ducks out of the way, a green blur disappearing into the jungle of metal supports, blue streaks of light ricocheting behind him. Skirting the edge of the building, Genji catches sight of the truck, moving steadily toward the safe house, and the sliver of light indicating Pharah and Mercy's position in the air. Zarya moves at a brisk jog, nearly the same pace as the main convoy. Genji flicks three shuriken out of his arm and sends them spinning into the darkness, toward the sound of Hanzo's feet against reinforced steel.

Another arrow comes at him from above, which Genji easily deflects toward the ground with his shortsword. 

The games they used to play were drastically less deadly, but at their age and level of skill, anything less than a real skirmish becomes pointless. They used to test themselves against each other with toy weapons, tumbling and leaping between rocks in the estate's courtyard. They'd eventually graduated to spars, proper sessions overseen by an instructor. In the year before Genji's 'death', they'd occasionally take to the trees behind Shimada castle, honing their skills as fully realized ninja. 

A real battle would end in less than a minute (their one true fight certainly did), but this game drags on for nearly five before Hanzo motions for Genji to stop. Neither of them have broken a sweat, Hanzo's stamina keeping up well with Genji's enhancements, but he points out a smudge in the distance creeping up to Jesse and Mei's position. 

「Los Muertos,」 Genji says, zooming in on the figures. 「Probably. It's hard to tell from here.」

「Go on,」 says Hanzo as Genji seems to hesitate between rejoining his team and staying in place. He keeps his voice neutral but Genji glances over his shoulder, watches his eyes narrow, corners of his mouth dragged into a wistful frown. Maybe he thought they'd have more time than the few minutes of every encounter Genji manages to wring from him.

Coming to a quick decision, Genji extends a hand. 「Come with me,」 he says. 「This is the last time I'll ask, brother. You are welcome to join us anytime, but I'm tired of hoping for something that may never come to pass.」

Warily eyeing the textured surface of Genji's palm, Hanzo's fingers twitch forward but he clenches his hands into fists and holds them solidly at his side. 「You don't know what you want, Genji.」

「You speak of redemption,」 Genji counters, letting his hand drop, 「of honor, but if you truly want to atone for your deeds, come with me. Do good. There is no other way. If you seek forgiveness, you already have it.」

「I don't seek forgiveness.」 If Hanzo were the type to physically recoil, he would. He squares his shoulders instead, the way they were taught as children to do when they wanted nothing more than to flinch away. 「Stop offering it to me.」

「But you do. You believe you're protecting me, but it pains me to see you like this.」 Genji's head cants to the side, his chin lifting, voice dropping an octave and scratching across the artificial larynx embedded in his throat. 「Honestly, it's pathetic.」 

Hanzo bares his teeth, lip drawn back in a wary snarl. 「What could you understand?」

「'With every death comes honor,'」 Genji intones, his body language alone dripping with bitter disdain as he repeats the line Hanzo had latched to as a younger man-- because he truly believed it or because he needed to reconcile murder with duty and honor, Genji doesn't know, but he'd never liked it. He grimaces under his visor, hating the self-pity in his voice but unable to suppress it. 「'With honor, redemption.' Whose death now? Yours? Haven't I lost enough in my life without losing my brother as well?」

「Genji--」

「I have to go.」 Genji staggers back two steps, catching himself before he trips off the rafter. 「My team needs me.」

* * *

He catches up to Zarya first, holding her own against a crowd of armed pandilleros. Most of them look young, poor and scared-- Genji's pretty sure that few if any of them know what they've gotten into, though he's not sure how feasible it would be to keep fatalities to a minimum. He sees Zarya's barrier flickering as he approaches from above, and drops in front of her the moment it goes down, wakizashi raised. She throws up a barrier around him when his senses finally lag against the onslaught of ammunition, and he dashes forward to take down whatever gangsters hadn't been wounded by their own reflected shots. 

"Thanks!" he calls over his shoulder, retreating to duck behind Zarya as the last few men regain their bearings, launching shuriken around her while her particle beam takes out the rest. 

"No," she says, turning to face him and clapping Genji so hard on the shoulder he nearly falls over, "thank you. Your timing is impeccable."

Genji nods, rubbing his shoulder in an exaggerated show of pain (he doesn't actually have many sensors there) while Zarya rolls her eyes at him, his status as a veteran ex-hero notwithstanding. "Let's rejoin McCree and Mei."

Experienced soldier though she is, Zarya looks askance at Genji. He's more familiar with the way Overwatch works, accustomed to operating in the small, versatile units Overwatch prefers. "Will we be enough?"

"Pharah and Mercy will be with us soon." A pause. Then, deciding not to risk her launching another charge at Hanzo, Genji pointedly glances behind them. "And, we may have another sharp pair of eyes looking out for us."

"You knew that stranger," she says, sounding surprised but not particularly angry. "It is not an enemy?"

"I will have to explain later, Zarya. I know you do not trust me, but trust that I want to protect this team as much as you do."

She regards him, considering. "I trust that you are a man of your word."

"Close enough," says Genji, visor flashing as he extends a fist. "Let us press on together."

Zarya bumps it with her own, the impact traveling through Genji's body to crack the pavement at his feet. She smirks at him, as if sharing some sort of inside joke. "I have your back."

"And I yours," he manages through his shock, trying to catch a glimpse of her knuckles. Surely, she didn't just _punch_ his cyborg hand and come away unscathed...?

She did. 

Zarya jogs ahead, looking very satisfied with herself. Genji scales the closest wall and keeps pace with her as he runs across the low, shingled roofs, hanging back enough to have a much wider view of their path and eyes on the road behind. Pharah and Mercy are much closer to the convoy, their little beam of light descending on where it must be. 

Drawing ahead of her, Genji doubles back when he glimpses a huddled mass of shadows in one particularly dingy alleyway. "Something up ahead," he tells her as they move, "prepare for enemy contact."

She nods, hefting her particle cannon. The moment shots ring out, shapes barreling out of the side street at them, Zarya throws up her barrier. Genji drops down behind the group and incapacitates two. 

Three are left, though one massive man seems to have locked onto Zarya. The moment her barrier drops, he slams into her, knocking the particle cannon out of her hands and sending it skidding across the ground. She forgets about it immediately, seizing the man who'd rammed her and bringing him into a chokehold, her arms nearly the size of his head. Genji only has a moment to appreciate it, spinning on his heel to jam three shuriken manually into one man's neck, sending him reeling back. The last one's ducked out of sight, but he has no time to chase them down before another few Los Muertos members round the corner.

Zarya drops the man once she's done choking him out, casting around for her weapon and not finding it. Swearing, she turns to the approaching enemies.

"We should retreat," Genji announces the same moment she cracks her knuckles and says, more to herself than him, "Bare hands, then."

"We need backup," Genji sighs into the open communication channel. Then, with a wince, "Possibly a healer."

Pharah answers with a quick affirmative. "We have rendezvoused with Lúcio and Torbjörn. They will come after us."

"I can handle small fry," Zarya says, rolling her shoulders as the line of gangsters in front of her (the backup apparently armed only with knives and nail bats) keeps its distance, the image of her overpowering their largest member still fresh in their minds. "Find bastard who take my weapon."

How Zarya actually expects Genji, a cyborg a third her size, to retrieve a cannon that by all rights belongs on a tank is a mystery to him but he decides that at worst he can secure the weapon before a bunch of violent criminals get their hands on yet another tool with which to terrorize the locals. He ducks into an alley closest to where the cannon had last been, tracking the space for footprints and scuffs against the concrete, tell-tale signs of a large object being dragged across the ground. He follows one particular trail down into yet another side street, dashing into it in case someone were waiting to take him by surprise. Finding the space empty, Genji turns to leave, only the sound of a heavy step behind him stopping him in his tracks. 

The particle cannon gleams in the darkness, a massive human shadow wielding it. Before Genji can ask if Zarya's found her weapon, a charge knocks him off his feet, sending him into the wall at his back. Genji hurls the shuriken in his hand before he reaches for his wakizashi, hesitating when the man turns the particle beam on him.

He can't deflect light-based ammunition, so the only other option is offense-- through the haze of flashing red alerts appearing on his HUD, Genji sees the ping that means his boosters have cooled enough to use again. He finishes the engagement with a neat slash across the man's neck, then finally regards the notifications urgently demanding his attention. The CRITICAL MALFUNCTION warning means he doesn't have very long to request help.

The closest agent is-- Zarya, but he can't distract her. That could mean two operatives for Mercy's table instead of just himself. He staggers forward, one hand scraping along the brick wall to keep from toppling over, dropping to his knees as he coughs, green droplets splattering against the inside of his visor, his throat burning.

「Genji!」

_Hanzo._

Hanzo's still here. Hanzo followed him. Genji doesn't think twice about trusting his big brother. 「Something is... wrong.」

Hanzo hits the ground next to Genji as the cyborg loses consciousness altogether, scanning for injuries but finding nothing other than a few scorch marks across the front of his chest armor. Before he can move Genji a shot rings out behind, a divot appearing in the concrete by his foot. Blood drips into it from a wound in his side, his _very expensive_ gi staining red, a rather large hole in the material. Hanzo nocks an arrow, draws his bow and sends a scattershot toward the ground as he turns, taking a cut-off grunt of pain as an arrow finding its mark. 

He scoops Genji up, the body surprisingly light for all its metal, and braces himself as he taps into the team's public channel. "Genji needs help," he growls, "I will send you my coordinates."

"Now," someone drawls, his accent alone obnoxious to Hanzo's ears, "who the hell's this?"

Lúcio's voice chimes in, unmistakable. "It's Genji's brother, isn't it?" He sounds concerned, which shouldn't be unusual for someone on his team. "Is he alright?"

"I just told you that he's injured." Hanzo can feel blood creeping into his hakama. His wound isn't deep, and it hasn't begun to hurt, so he takes off in the general direction of where he'd last caught sight of Genji's teammates. "Where is your backup?"

"Two minutes out," the first voice says.

"I do not know if he has two minutes."

Lúcio cuts in, nearly shouting under the sound of tires screeching. "Thirty seconds out!"

He makes it two blocks before a squat, armored black truck swings around the corner and screeches to a halt in front of him. The doors slam open, Lúcio hopping out with his amplifier raised, set to pump out his healing music. A woman steps out after him, staff in hand, her armor nearly glowing under orange street lamps. Angela Ziegler. Her face was well-known in Overwatch's heyday, and her name turns up frequently in Genji's messages.

"Here." Swaying on his feet, Hanzo gently lowers his brother, careful not to let his shoulders or head come in hard contact with the ground. Mercy immediately kneels next to him, a stream from her staff going to work on Genji.

"Are you okay?" another woman asks, pushing her glasses up as she peers at him, hopping out of the truck. Zhou Mei-Ling. Another agent of Overwatch who'd been publicized constantly.

"I'm fine," Hanzo grunts as the wound in his side begins to burn even as it knits, Lúcio's music augmenting his body's organic healing processes. It won't replace all the blood he's already lost, though.

"You don't look fine," Mei says.

Hanzo's knees give out.

* * *

When Hanzo comes to, he's laid out in the back of the truck as it rumbles along, Genji on the metal floor beside him. Angela kneels over them, looking mildly frustrated though not in distress. Hanzo takes it as an encouraging sign as he feels for the bullet wound in his side, finding nothing but a somewhat red and tender patch of new skin. Lúcio's next to Mercy, his amplifier still playing. Genji lies eerily still.

"The nanomachines are taking too long to reach the damage site." Mercy turns to the small, bearded man beside her, pointing out several spots on Genji's torso and then pulling on a pair of gloves she extracts from a slot in her armor. "Commandant, if you would."

Torbjörn grunts in acknowledgment, his tool arm spinning out a drill as he pulls the rivets holding Genji's chest plate to his body. Mercy helps peel back the armor, revealing a pale, emaciated chest underneath. Lúcio glances ribs, prominent even under numerous scars and the hard, sinewy muscle that's left; a line of bolts down Genji's torso. Mercy uses pliers to turn them, cracking open his chest with practiced speed. 

Hanzo makes a strangled sound, turning away to dry-heave a few times until he brings his reaction under control. Lúcio, for his part, can't peel his eyes away from the delicate network of cables and cybernetics woven through all but one of Genji's internal organs. Artificial vessels full of green liquid pop stark against red-- some of them badly shredded and leaking caustic fluid. Mercy brings her staff forward, the biotic stream immediately going to work on the worst of the damage, her nanomachines knitting his flesh, repairing machinery and filtering cybernetic liquid from his blood. She assists somewhat, feeling for damage obscured from her bots, nudging a kidney or spleen slightly to prompt a scan until his internals have been mapped out completely.

His heart, the only thing untouched by bionic enhancement, beats slow and steady. 

Torbjörn shakes his head. "That's some fine work, Angela."

She gives him a smile. "I had plenty of help from you, Commandant."

"Genji," Hanzo whispers, shocked. He moves forward, but stops when Lúcio throws an arm out in front of him. 

"Let her work," Lúcio says, snapping him back to the present. "He'll be alright."

Confusion, guilt and fear all flit across Hanzo's face, which Lúcio decides is the exact right mix of emotions to have regarding the brother he'd tried to kill. Then anger, though Hanzo doesn't try to shove past and says nothing. 

Lúcio hangs back, out of Mercy's way, but seeing that her staff has taken over the healing, he makes a vague motion toward Genji's body. "He didn't reject those?"

"He did at first," Mercy answers, not looking up, "so I cyberized his immune system."

"Bought the airline, huh?" He gets a 'wow, that's an old-ass reference' look from Hanzo and a perplexed glance from Mercy. "So he can't catch colds or get sick?"

"No," she answers, her expression stern as her gaze flickers up to him, "but you can, if he comes in contact with a pathogen and passes it onto you."

"Okay, okay." Sounding much too calm for Hanzo's taste, Lúcio flashes a wry grin. "I understand, doc."

How they can joke about anything while Genji hovers between life and death, Hanzo has no idea. Isn't he their friend? Their comrade? He suppresses the urge to start yelling until he notices Lúcio's hands are clenched, a stark contrast to his joking tone, but how much does that even _mean_ \--

"He is stabilized," says Mercy, bringing the sides of Genji's chest back together, fitting his ribs into their places and tightening the bolts on his chest, her hands slick with his blood and an oily, greenish sheen. Pharah pops into the feed as she removes the gloves and casts around for a place to put them (settling on crumpled up inside another glove to contain the material until she can properly dispose of it), reporting an all-clear on their end.

"I have also retrieved weapon," says Zarya. Then, after a pause, "How is Genji?"

Mercy gives him a fond look, removing his visor to clean it and prying his mouth open to clear the fluid from his airways. "He will be fine. He has seen much worse." 

Hanzo's pretty sure that's a sly dig at him, but he ignores it. Takes it with grace, even, knowing that without Angela Ziegler, his brother would be dead.

* * *

Genji wakes up visorless, prepared to wreak havoc on whom or whatever may have captured him and put him in... the Gibraltar medical bay. He sits up, reaches for his visor, clips it into place and sighs at the hundred or so new messages immediately displayed on the screen. Winston, Lena, Fareeha, Reinhardt, Jack and Jesse leave him well-wishes, mild jabs at his tendency to end up out of action for several weeks at a time. Angela sends him a full report on his condition and software to track the nanomachines still at work inside his body, as well as instructions for care after his release.

Zarya's left him a written card on the bedside table, a brief 'I look forward to working with you again' neatly penned on it. Mei left him flowers, picked from her own garden, a card attached to each stem with their scientific names, and more whimsically, their meanings across the cultures they originated from. D.Va had spammed him with in-patient memes. 

Zenyatta's feed is filled with pictures of sunsets, rivers, small birds. The occasional koan of wisdom about recovery and strength. Genji smiles.

> i'm okay, master  
> i have only been out for two days

Zenyatta's response comes immediately, so ecstatic that Genji can't bring himself to laugh, even out of affection.

> Genji!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

> all is well

> I am in training with Reinhardt and Hana, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind my cutting us short to see you.

> i will come find you when you've finished, master

> I am glad to see you awake, Genji.  
> I was very!!!! Worried!!!!!!!  
> I was with you for many hours yesterday, but you did not wake until today.  
> My feelings are a little hurt, Genji.

As much as he worries about Zenyatta, Genji realizes, not for the first time, that human bodies are fragile and his master must often feel the same concern for him. Still, he chuckles at the rare display of immaturity, hopelessly endeared.

> i'm sorry, master  
> next time this happens i will time my consciousness to when you are present

> Good.  
> Or perhaps we should try to prevent this situation from happening again........

> i will see you soon

> Rest well, Genji!

"Your timing," Lúcio grumbles as he trots back into the bay with a can of juice from the vending machine in hand, setting it down on the table, "really sucks, man. I wanted to be here for when you wake up, but a guy takes _one_ bathroom break..."

Removing his visor, Genji smiles as Lúcio leans in, kissing him with a restrained sort of fervor, aching with want but conscious of his injuries. Lúcio's hand, cool from clutching his drink, rises to cup the back of Genji's head, fingers raking through his hair. Genji glances up, grimacing when he catches sight of his fringe visible at the edge of his vision. "It's good to see you too," he answers, suddenly wishing for a mirror so he can at least attempt to fix hospital-hair.There's a reason he avoids revealing his true features-- most of it being vanity.

"I didn't know," Lúcio sighs against his mouth, thumb stroking over the scars on his cheek, "you still had hair, gatinho. So soft and nice."

"It's synthetic." Genji reaches up to feel as well, the texture under his fingers familiar though he hadn't bothered to fully remove his headgear in a long time. "It would be... pretty nasty under there if it weren't."

Lúcio hops up to sit next to Genji on the reclining bed, one foot still on the floor. "It feels real."

"Dr. Ziegler is very skilled. I can't change its color, however."

Lúcio's brings his face close, planting another kiss at the corner of Genji's mouth. "Can't dye it green anymore."

"I," Genji sighs, feigning sad acceptance, "have come to terms with only being green on the outside."

Suddenly serious, Lúcio takes Genji's hand and holds it between both of his, idly working his fingers and inspecting the visible joints at his knuckles. "Hey, so, how're you doing?"

"Fine. I should be out by tomorrow, but Dr. Ziegler tells me I shouldn't move around very much until then." The nanomachines are still in his system, evidently reinforcing whatever repairs they'd done during a preliminary pass through his body. They'll last for another week or so performing routine maintenance, then assimilate themselves into the cybernetics.

"You had me worried, Genji."

"I heard you were there."

"Yeah." Lúcio sighs, nuzzling against the side of Genji's neck. "It was pretty wild, doc just cracked your chest open."

"You saw that."

As if sensing the apprehension in Genji's voice, he looks up, exasperated and playful. "Hey, I'm not here for your body. Even if it is pretty sweet."

"I was not... always so thin."

"If you were built anything like your brother," Lúcio shoots back, "I bet you looked like a real douchebag."

"Maybe," Genji laughs, unable to truly deny it. "After the incident," he explains, "I spent many weeks unable to move at all. While Dr. Ziegler worked, my body atrophied. In the end, it... would not have made a difference."

"Forget all that, Genji." Lúcio pokes him in the side. "I like you the way you are."

"So that's your type."

"Cyborg ninjas?" Lúcio winks at him, casually intertwining their fingers. "Yeah, you got me."

"I always thought that I would have competition," replies Genji, feigning disappointment as he brings Lúcio's hands to his mouth, planting a kiss on the back of each, "but I did not expect my greatest rival to be Robocop."

Lúcio takes a while to respond and when he does his voice is soft, the joking smile on his face brittle and thin. "You're not in trouble until he becomes Roboninja."

"What's wrong?"

Shifting, Lúcio presses their foreheads together, eyes closed. The memory of Mercy opening him up can't be pleasant but as far as Genji's concerned, it's hardly the worst shape he's come back from an Overwatch assignment in and they'll all have to get used to it. Lúcio breathes slowly, arms curling around Genji's neck, his weight settling carefully against his chest. "You ever get the feeling we're the kind of people who don't get to grow old?"

"Yes." Realizing that that response isn't reassuring in the least, Genji settles in, one arm slinging around Lúcio's waist. "It does not mean we shouldn't try," he says, pulling him closer, "perhaps together."

Lúcio mulls that over, then sits back, a skewed grin on his face. "Alright playboy," he says, "how many painkillers are you on?"

"All of them. But I'm serious."

"Genji--"

Genji cuts him off with a kiss, soft and slow. When they break apart, he purses his lips and strokes his thumb down Lúcio's spine, dropping his gaze. "You," he says, sheepish, "may have to remind me of this conversation when the painkillers wear off."

That finally gets a laugh, Lúcio cupping Genji's jaw and tipping it up. "Oh, don't worry," he says, mapping every dip and groove of Genji's face, committing that quiet, restrained smile to memory. "I'm not gonna let you forget."


	9. Chapter 9

When Mercy finally gives him the all-clear, the first thing Genji does is scale the radar array set up along the edge of the Watchpoint overlooking Gibraltar Bay, briefly removing his visor to watch the sun rise. He hasn't messaged Zenyatta or Lúcio yet, planning to surprise them in person once he figures out where they actually are-- the most predictable time to catch them would probably be breakfast. 

He nudges Hanzo's knee with his foot. 

「You knew I would be here,」 Hanzo sighs, eyes closed in meditation.

Genji doesn't join him, not exactly taken with the idea of sitting with his eyes closed around his brother (meditation means different things to them now, anyway), but he paces around Hanzo instead, scrutinizing his form. 「You always did like heights.」

Cracking an eye open, Hanzo follows Genji's movements with a calm, neutral gaze. 「You're not going to eat?」

「I don't eat anymore. You know that.」

「Normally, no.」 Having had access to Genji's communications means having access to a myriad of his other files as well-- photos, sound files, mission reports and debriefings, copies of medical files that he'd requested from Ziegler. Genji never valued privacy the same way Hanzo did; the few things he truly wanted secret would never be recorded or saved. 「But as you are being repaired, the--」

「Nanomachines!」 Genji straightens, his shoulders pulling back in an almost comical display of epiphany, spinning on his heel toward the main base. Then he grinds to a halt, rooting himself to the spot with a visible effort as he points at Hanzo's back. The reason he'd sought his brother out in the first place, so early in the morning. 「And before I forget, stay. You're already here. Stay with us.」

Hanzo's head cocks to the side, stray hairs fluttering in the sea breeze. 「There is Shin Ramyun in the kitchen.」

Genji huffs, dashing for the edge of the array, toward the mess hall. Instant ramen _shouldn't_ take priority over his brother, but his time for eating is limited, and Hanzo will probably be around for a while. Just before he hops off the edge, Genji calls over his shoulder, 「Don't think I'm letting this go now that I have you in my reach, brother!」

* * *

Coming from the medical bay, Lúcio does a double-take when he reaches the mess hall, Genji sitting alone near the door to the kitchen. His visor is off, all concentration focused on the bowl of noodles in front of him swimming in a violently red soup. "You're eating!"

Genji looks up from his ramen, his cheeks distended, chopsticks hovering halfway between his bowl and his mouth. He motions for Lúcio to wait a few seconds, hastily taking a drink of water to wash down his current mouthful. "The nanomachines need fuel," he says, grinning, "and they will convert it all before my systems begin to try and process it. You are up... very early."

"I woke up and wanted to see you more than I wanted to go back to sleep." Lúcio smiles back, sliding into the seat next to Genji and leaning forward onto his elbows, his foot tapping underneath the table. "Taking advantage of it while it lasts?"

"Of course," Genji answers, shoving another bundle of noodles into his mouth. Lúcio's expression softens, his heart twisting in his chest at the sight of Genji's sheer excitement. He'd said that he resigned himself to simply not eating most of the time, stomach no longer accustomed to food and the rest of his system unsuited to processing it. Genji's also said every time that he's accepted it, that it doesn't bother him. 

"Anything you want?" asks Lúcio, squeezing his knee under the table. "I'll get my hands on it."

"Ah, no. Don't trouble yourself."

"Just tell me, Genji. I promise I won't go out of my way too much."

"I miss fruit." Genji sighs, patting his belly as he leans away from the table, sliding his bowl to Lúcio when the other man indicates mild interest in whatever he's eating. More than half the noodles are still left, but he legitimately looks full. "Nothing tastes the same as it used to," Genji continues as Lúcio picks up his chopsticks and starts on the rest of the bowl, "but biting into something fresh and cold always felt good. Things like lychee, melons, peaches..."

Lúcio looks at him while he chews, then swallows. "Of course you love the expensive stuff," he laughs, "I've been inside the department stores, I looked at the prices."

"They are expensive because everyone likes them," Genji retorts, "and they are delicious."

Lúcio sticks his tongue out. "Mainstream."

While Lúcio continues poking around in the bowl, Genji puts a hand on his shoulder, thumb tracing the edge of his tattoo. "Why were you coming from the medical wing?" he asks. "Are you hurt?"

"I was looking for you. You didn't tell me you were out."

"I was going to meet you and my master after I spoke with Hanzo," Genji says sheepishly, picking up his visor and clipping it in place, "but he mentioned that there was ramen in the kitchen, and I forgot. I think it is Song-kun's, but there was so much I don't think she will mind."

"Egg?" Lúcio asks, momentarily distracted as he turns up a runny half-cooked yolk in the bottom of the bowl.

Genji changes tracks with him easily. "Instant ramen has almost no nutritional value."

"But yeah, she wouldn't mind." Lúcio doesn't even tease Genji for being distracted by ramen, slurping down the egg and the remainder of the noodles. He picks up the bowl and takes a sip of broth next, briefly relishing the salty, spicy soup before he sets it down and prepares to clear the used utensils. Instant stuff can't compare to what he had in Japan and there's no real way to justify flying out there on Overwatch's budget, but Shin Ramyun would do in a pinch, apparently. Besides, for all her bluster D.Va's a generous friend. "Even if she gets mad at someone else," Lúcio points out, "she really likes you."

Genji chuckles, an indulgent lilt to his voice. "That is a surprise to me," he says, though he doesn't dispute it. If she shows respect and affection through relentless teasing (and it's very possible she does), he wouldn't be surprised if he really was Hana's favorite of the active agents. The casualness of their interactions aside, she often seeks out his opinion, calling his attention to maneuvers in training and insisting that he gives her feedback. 

"Don't play, Genji." Lúcio smiles up at him, as if reading his thoughts. "You know Hana looks up to you."

Shaking his head, Genji curls an arm around Lúcio's waist and drops his chin to his shoulder. "She could stand to show it more."

* * *

Genji disappears after breakfast to find Zenyatta, only looking mildly disappointed about Lúcio turning down his invitation to join them. On his own, Lúcio wanders to the garage in search of a vehicle more discreet than an armored truck, and turns up nothing. Overwatch has tanks and an actual rocket ship in Gibraltar, but evidently a motorcycle or hatchback or literally any kind of civilian ride is too much to ask for. He's pondering his options in front of a wall of keys when D.Va wanders in, a pastel pink helmet under her arm. 

"What're you looking for?" Hana asks, cracking her gum. 

"I was gonna hit up the town market," he answers, "but I don't wanna drive an armored truck in. You see my dilemma?"

She hefts a backpack off her shoulder. "I'm heading in to pick up some stuff. Do you want a lift?"

"On what?"

Hana lifts a tarp suspended between two tanks to reveal the cutest scooter Lúcio's ever seen in his life. It's got the same pink-white color scheme as her mech, a MEKA logo spray-painted onto its chassis right next to her trademark bunny design. She gives him a cheeky smirk. "My baby."

Lúcio whistles, scuffing his foot against the concrete floor as he paces around the scooter. He catches the spare helmet D.Va tosses him, also pink, and unclips his ponytail to retie his locs closer to his neck. "Your baby's not your mech?"

"As if I'd ever self-destruct my baby." Hana swings her leg over her scooter, settling into the seat and folding up its kickstand. She regards Lúcio for a few seconds, squinting at him until he gives her a questioning glance. "Sorry that color clashes so bad with your shirt," she says, and cracks her gum as she pats the space behind her.

"Hey," Lúcio retorts, climbing on and clipping the straps of his helmet into place, "I look adorable."

"Confidence is good, I guess." Hana fishes her phone out of her pocket, fiddling with it for a few seconds to pull up her camera. Raising it for a selfie, she knocks Lúcio's shin with her heel and grins as he sticks his face up next to hers. "Hey, say 'kimchi'!"

Lúcio gives her a duckface and a V-sign, and they spend an extra five minutes on the back of her scooter coordinating their social media mentions. 

When they arrive in town, D.Va hops off her scooter and waits for Lúcio to dismount before she clasps her hands behind her back, falling into step beside him as he starts down the street, toward the small village of tents set up along a wide street. "Lúcioooooooooo."

"What's up?"

"Next week I'm going back to Korea to visit my family and finish a training exercise," she says, "and I was wondering if you wanted to come? You can bring sunbae, too, if you want, I _guess_."

She's pouting, as if it were a _huge burden_ to invite Genji along, but her tone borders on a request; she wants him to go. Maybe to show off her squad, or her fans. Lúcio's sure it's the difference in age that has her asking through him, like some sort of buffer, so he rolls his eyes. "If you want Genji to come," he tells her, "you could just say so. But yeah, I'll ask. How long?"

"Just three weeks! My unit's obsessed with you. I could show you around Seoul, and if you sign some autographs, I'll even treat you to some yummy barbecue." A pause. Hana seems to consider the possibility that Genji won't even agree to go, especially with Hanzo on the base. "You don't have to stay the whole time, I'm sure it'll be boring."

Lúcio stops a few feet from the entrance of the market. He crosses his arms over his chest and nods. "I don't have any assignments for a while, I'd be down. I bet Genji would have fun, too."

She makes a face.

"What?"

"I thought you two would be one of those cool couples," Hana laughs, "but you're actually just mushy losers. It's cute."

"Hey, I-- can't argue that, actually." Lúcio shrugs helplessly, a not-at-all embarrassed smile on his face. "Call me when you're done?"

"I just have to pick up some souvenirs."

Lúcio looks around them, then at the protruding Rock of Gibraltar rising in the distance. "Do you want to hit up the rock or something?"

"No," she answers, flipping out her phone to begin searching for a local specialties store, "all my crew cares about is food anyway."

* * *

"My brother just got here," Genji says when Lúcio asks. It almost visibly pains him to pass up a trip to Korea, especially when he'd be stuck on base with Hanzo of all people, but he begrudgingly cedes to the sense of duty and guilt that would plague him otherwise. Besides, Hanzo might just decide to leave if Genji weren't around, and tracking him down again could take weeks. "I want to make sure he is settled in. But have fun, Lúcio. Take pictures, and keep me updated."

Lúcio pauses halfway up the hill they're climbing, hefting the little portable cooler he'd brought over his shoulder. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Is that a trick question?" Genji asks, cocking his head to the side. 

"What do you mean?"

"I will live," sighs Genji, "but my function may be impaired without your presence." Purposefully amping up the melodrama, he presses the back of one hand against his forehead and groans. "I will be distracted, revolving my days around your messages. If that is not okay enough for you, you could stay, and I will not have to fear that Song-kun is trying to steal you away from me."

Lúcio throws his head back, laughter shaking his body as Genji spins him around. "I'll miss you too," he says as Genji removes his visor, chest pressed to Lúcio's back and arms looped around his waist.

Genji sighs, leaning down to drop a kiss on his shoulder. "Travel safe, Lúcio."

Lúcio squirms free and pulls Genji the rest of the way up the hill. He drops the cooler, picking a clear space to sit and patting the ground beside him once he's flung himself to the ground. "You know I will," he answers, extracting something from his pack and dropping it into Genji's lap.

"A peach?" the cyborg asks, turning it in his hands. It's cold from a few hours in refrigeration, firm and crisp.

"White peach. First time I had one in Hong Kong, I lost my mind. Try it!"

"I've had them, Lúcio."

"They're really expensive, y'know." Lúcio grimaces, gesturing for Genji to hurry up and dig in already. "Like, two Euros each."

Reaching behind his waist, Genji draws his wakizashi and adjusts his grip on the peach, turning it in hand as if looking for the ideal place to cut. "I thought you were a millionaire," he says, sounding amused as he makes sure to wipe his blade, wicking away any polish that might still be stuck on it.

"Beside the point, Genji. I got you mango too."

"Ah!"

"You get excited about that but not by the peaches? Wow."

"Mangoes are much harder to find than peaches in Japan." Slicing a wedge off the fruit, Genji peels it off his shortsword with his teeth, apparently used to eating right off of things that have cut through human beings. Cool factor aside, very unsanitary. He offers the next slice to Lúcio, who picks it carefully off the metal and pops it into his mouth. 

"I never eat mangoes outside of Brazil," he says, cheeks stuffed full, "they just don't taste as good." 

"You can get them fresh, I'm jealous."

"A guy in the hood next to ours had a tree in his yard." Lúcio gestures as he swallows, reaching all the way up just to emphasize that the tree was enormous. "Me and my friends used to climb up and pick the ones that'd just turned ripe, freeze 'em, and we'd eat free mangoes for weeks. He hated us, but the trees produce so much that he used to just dump wheelbarrows of the stuff in the trash, you know? Dude had money."

"Rich people are the worst," Genji concurs, sounding very sincere. "I," he continues, prising the pit out of the last half-peach with his bottom teeth and spitting it to the side, "am going to finish this."

"Go ahead." Briefly wondering if Genji enjoys watching him eat as much as Lúcio's getting a kick out of bringing Genji food, he motions for him to keep going. "I got it for you anyway. And there's a bunch more in the kitchen."

Genji smiles at him, expression softening for a second before he turns his attention back to the fruit, biting into it with an expression of abject ecstasy on his face, eyes sliding shut as his teeth crunch into pinkish-white flesh. As he finishes it, Lúcio produces a mango from his cooler, grinning when Genji's brows lift in delight. He expertly takes the mango, cuts along the wide edges of its pit to produce two half-ovals, and scores the flesh into squares. Handing one half to Lúcio and keeping the other for himself, Genji stores the pit on a napkin before flipping his piece of mango inside-out, squares protruding from the skin.

Lúcio picks his clean, watching Genji systematically destroy his own share, practically inhaling it as juice covers his fingers, sneaking past the gap in his lip to drip down his chin, his usual meticulous attention to detail and appearance lost to the child-like glee of experiencing cold fruit on a hot summer day. 

Before Lúcio's even finished, Genji tosses his demolished peel to the foot of the tree, going for the pit and stripping away the remaining length of skin with a single flick of his knife. He takes the flesh off, teeth scraping against the hard seed as even more juice covers his hands, regretfully sucking on the fibers as he whittles the mango down to its bare bones.

"Lúcio," he breathes when he's done, eyes practically shining with wonder that he could know someone so kind, so thoughtful, so capable of finding delicious fruit. "That was _amazing_. Thank you."

 _I_ , Lúcio considers, launching himself forward and knocking Genji onto his back as he presses their lips together, _am so far gone_. Genji makes a surprised sound as his shoulders hit the grass, head cushioned on Lúcio's forearms, but he smiles as the other man's weight settles on his chest. 

Their kiss is sticky, warm and sweet.

* * *

"I promised sunbae that I'd make you eat all sorts of things," D.Va chirps, sliding a plate across the table, a seafood pancake cut into eight pieces on it. Genji had gone to decline Hana personally a week ago, promising her that the next time she had business in Korea, he'd go with her. He'd also compiled a list of foods Lúcio would probably like, based on what he's demonstrated so far; when Lúcio told them that they were taking his eating habits a little too seriously, he'd gotten two pitying looks. "I'll start you off easy," she says, flashing him a wicked grin.

"This is really good," he tells her, mouth full as Hana turns to the server and rattles off another list of dishes. "But that's too much? Isn't it too much?"

"I'll save the rest for the next couple days," Hana shoots back, scanning the menu as their meat grills in the center of the table, "food on base isn't nearly this good, and my squad's getting delivery tonight." Lúcio picks his way through the side dishes, sampling a bit of everything as the waitress returns with a large metal bowl, condensation gathering on its outside. "This one is bibim-naengmyun," D.Va says, passing him a smaller bowl as their server cuts the noodles with a pair of scissors and portions him a serving. "I know you like spicy."

"What's that?" Lúcio asks, pointing at another dish, still chewing, his words muffled and slurring.

"Yukhoe."

Lúcio glances at the plate: raw beef, strips of pear and cucumber arranged neatly, and an egg yolk. "Raw..."

"Just try a little bit," Hana says, mixing it all together and helping herself to a big pile. "If you don't like it, I'll finish it. But you like sushi, so you should be okay."

Lúcio digs in after watching D.Va eat for a few seconds and confirming that she hasn't keeled over and died from ingesting raw meat. "This is a lot of food," he points out again, gesturing at the table in front of them, barely any room for more plates even with Hana's special request. He doesn't stop eating though, mimicking her when she finally goes for their grilled meat, building his lettuce cups the same way she does.

"More incoming," she tells him, tipping her glass of water at him after she drains it. "Prepare yourself."

As their meal winds down, Lúcio leans back in his seat, barely able to move. D.Va sits in the same state across from him, listing to the side, her expression full of satisfaction and regret. She eyes their takeout, several stacks of plastic to-go boxes neatly contained in white plastic bags. "We ate too much, Lúcio."

"I told you," he wheezes in reply as their server returns with a plate of orange wedges. He takes one, scraping his teeth along the inside pith to peel off the flesh and then stuffing it whole into his mouth. Pulling back his lips, he flashes Hana an orange-peel smile while she motions for him to stay still enough for a picture, her mouth stuffed with a peel of her own. One selfie and a massive bill Lúcio fights to pay (he loses, backing down against his host only under threat of physical violence) later, they head on foot for the base on the outskirts of Seoul, only a few blocks away from the restaurant. 

"So how come Genji gets 'sunbae'," Lúcio asks, plastic bags swinging from his arms, "but I'm just Lúcio? I can't be sunbae too?"

"We joined Overwatch at the same time," she answers, waving a dismissive hand at him, "so you can't be a sunbae. It's like 'senpai'. You're not my senpai."

Lúcio glances over his shoulder at the sound of machinery in the distance, a garbage truck making its rounds a street or two away. "I'm your senpai in life," he says.

"Doesn't count." 

"What about 'oppa'? Genji keeps trying to get you to call him oppa?"

"Ugh!" Her head drops back, eyes rolling skyward as she groans, "Not you too!"

"What? Why not?"

Looking at him sideways as they pass under a street lamp, Hana pouts, eyes narrowing. "You're more like a 'hyung' to me."

Lúcio grins, finally getting somewhere. He points at himself, just barely tripping over the sudden weight imbalance as a plastic bag swings forward. "So can I be 'hyung'?"

"Yeah," D.Va says after a moment, an amused smirk on her face, "you can be hyung." 

Lúcio hasn't spent enough time in Korea to pick up on the nuances of titles and honorifics just yet, but he nods and seems to accept it without question. Or at least-- with only one question. The most important one: "Is that cooler than 'sunbae'?" 

" _You're_ cooler than sunbae," D.Va laughs, "so sure."

Lúcio pumps his fist into the air, quickly reining himself back when their food nearly goes flying. "Sweet! One up on green cyborg ninja dude."

Hana shakes her head, but she's still smiling. "Do you even know what it means?"

"I'm gonna look it up when I get the chance?"

"I'll give you the base's Wi-Fi password."

Once inside, Lúcio pauses at a glass case of photographs, each picture of a young soldier in dark blue dress uniform, staring seriously out of the frame. Hana stops in front of it as well, briefly saluting it before she moves on, pausing halfway down the corridor when she notices that Lúcio hasn't moved from his spot.

"Hyung?" she prompts. When she doesn't get a response, she backtracks, returning to his side. "That's a memorial for pilots who were killed in action," Hana tells him.

"They all look really young."

"MEKA's a young unit." D.Va shrugs, her expression uncharacteristically serious. "None of the top eSports players are over thirty, 'cause their reflexes get too slow and their APM drops."

"Does it ever bother you?" Lúcio asks, scanning the dates engraved on each frame, doing the math in his head. Twenty, twenty-two, seventeen, twenty, nineteen, twenty-seven. Unable to read the hangul, he taps the glass case over the seventeen-year-old. "Having this here?"

That gets a long, thoughtful stare. D.Va glances at the picture again, finally answering, "It reminds me of what I'm fighting for."

Lúcio nods, determination flashing across his face, but he frowns as well. "I still can't help feeling guilty for everyone who got hurt under my lead. Just gotta get over it, huh?"

Hana restlessly shifts her weight between her feet. "You should talk to sunbae about this kind of thing."

"He's got so much going on already." He really should be talking to Genji about it, instead of unloading on a girl seven years younger than him. An ex-veteran of Overwatch would know-- as far as Lúcio remembers, the turnover rate for agents was reaching its peak by the time Genji left. But with Hanzo around, the last thing he wants to do is make Genji worry. "Sorry," he says, flashing a grin, "I don't wanna put this on you either. Let's go."

Before he can walk ahead, D.Va catches him by the wrist and roots him in place. "Did he ever tell you how we actually met?"

"No, other than it was at the arcade."

"Lee Taejin." D.Va pulls up a picture on her phone and hands it over, a photo of her and another MEKA pilot sticking their tongues out at the camera, hands held up in V-signs. "He got recruited with me; we were in the same pro league, and he was the only other player my age. Got killed on our first assignment out of training. Just whacked right into the ground."

Lúcio does a double-take, shocked more at her nonchalant tone than the actual information. He says nothing, only turning back to a photo in the case. Lee's picture looks back at him, serious expression the exact opposite of the goofy image Hana had shown him a second ago.

"We held the omnic off, but right after that my unit had a press thing in Japan." She frowns, sneaking a resentful look at the barracks office. Lúcio knows the feeling; having to force a smile before he's even buried his friends was almost more difficult than breaking into Vishkar. "I snuck out of the hotel in the middle of the night," Hana continues, "and found that little arcade, so I just stayed there for a couple hours trying to get my mind off it. Sunbae came in, and I think he saw me looking sad, so we talked for a while, and uhm-- he really helped me a lot."

"What'd he say?"

"People die, Lúcio. Nothing will bring them back. You just have to make sure your time with them was good. Make sure their families are taken care of. Know their vision for the future and work for it in their place. Anything else is for your own benefit." Crossing her arms, Hana makes a face and drops her pitch, mimicking Genji's cadence and tone exactly, even though her voice can't reach the same rich synthetic baritone. "Sunbae also said, 'Take it from a man who has already died once'. His sense of humor really needs work."

Lúcio lets a thoughtful silence pass before he smiles, scratching the back of his neck. "You sound like an old soldier, Hana."

"Technically I'm a veteran, and you just joined Overwatch." She extends her arms toward him. "GG, noob."

"Sometimes I think I've seen a lot more of the world than most people," Lúcio sighs, accepting the hug Hana offers him, "and sometimes I get schooled by a teenager."

"You're a good guy, Lúcio." Hana squeezes him with all of her (not inconsiderable) strength, patting him on the back as she lets him go. She flashes him a tentative smile, scuffing her shoes on the tile. "Sad things shouldn't happen to people like you."

"Uh," he counters, "sad things shouldn't happen to anyone."

She pats him on the shoulder. "That's super debatable."

* * *

Lúcio decides that a week is enough to explore Seoul, put on a show for Hana's unit and make a variety show appearance with time to spare for getting to know the MEKA squad. The force contains about two dozen pilots, the oldest of them only ten years older than D.Va, and the youngest none other than Hana Song herself. Every single one of them was a pro eSports player, though despite that fame they're no longer allowed to compete against civilians. 

The monthly intra-squad competitions were Hana's idea, and her streams are some of the most-watched videos on her channel. Lúcio's on site for four days before he's roped into emceeing the opening ceremonies of a _Super Smash Brothers: Feud_ single-elimination tournament. 

Hana draws up the bracket after their daily drills while the rest of her squad sets up consoles in separate rooms, screens in the rec area for spectators. Their communications engineer and CO procure snacks and drinks, and Lúcio hunkers down behind the audience with D.Va's streaming setup. He trades messages with Genji, a quick confirmation that he's watching. Genji replies that most of the agents have gathered in Gibraltar's meeting room, taking advantage of the massive dual-screens usually used for mission briefings. 

He's snapped a photo of the setup, Tracer and Winston near the front, sharing a bucket of popcorn. Zenyatta's facing Genji and giving him a V-sign; McCree's eyes are closed, completely unprepared for a picture. The silhouette of Reinhardt's massive shoulder sticks into frame from the side. Mei, Zarya and Pharah have formed their own group, three of them apparently caught up in an animated conversation. Even Morrison is present, arms crossed grumpily over his chest. Hanzo seems to have declined.

Genji's next message makes Lúcio bury his face in his hands:

> you bring people together even when you are not here

Hana gives him a strange look, her expression slowly morphing to amusement once she realizes that he's messaging Genji.

"Mushy losers," she says, grinning.

"We're starting!" Lúcio shoots back.

The unit is due to play eight games in the playoffs, first places in the last eight tournaments seeded to take on the winners. The former range from squad champions of everything from Crash Bash to Tekken to old-school generations of Pokémon. Hana plays a demo game with Lúcio, the two of them reviewing rules and game mechanics for the benefit of the audience. A few cameramen and eSports reporters mill around, waiting for the tournament to start. 

"So," says Lúcio, frantically tapping a button on his controller while both screens display his and Hana's game, "obviously I main Greninja."

"My trademark is random," she replies, blasting Lúcio's avatar off the edge of the map, "so that's how I play in Smash, too. I'm not great with Kirby, though."

"I lost this round in forty seconds," Lúcio points out, setting down his controller. "Anyway, now that everyone knows the format, and how bad I am at Smash--"

"We can get started!" Seeded for day two, Hana grabs her mic and leans back in her seat as the matches begin, two games playing concurrently. "Suh Dong-Il and Kim Sungha-- you know them as Plastick and Cr0w-- are facing off in room one with Star Fox and Pikachu," she announces. "Choi Nari and Kim Wong-sik-- NARI and KingSick-- start their game in room two with Zelda and Samus. The betting pool is stacked two to one in favor of Nari-ssi and Sungha-ssi, so let's see if the underdogs can pull off an upset!" 

Reading off a sheet of paper, Lúcio taps his mic and cuts in with, "If you haven't submitted your tournament predictions yet, you have until the first player loses a life to hand it in. Good luck, everyone! Hwaiting!"

D.va looks at him in surprise, then nudges his arm with her elbow while her unit erupts into cheers, laughing. "You sound native, Lúcio!"

* * *

"Wow," Lúcio says as the last games finally end, streams now displaying nothing but game logo screens though his voice remains on air, "we got two upsets today, but we'll see how the winners play against the sitting champions of the last eight tournaments. First up tomorrow is NARI versus D.Va herself in room one, Cr0w and Jung Suhye-- LayZr-- in room two. Get a good night's sleep, everyone, tomorrow's when the party _really_ starts."

"Hey," Hana interrupts, her delivery casual but they'd scripted this exchange hours in advance, "Lúcio, why don't you send everyone off with a song?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. Here's a guitar cover of Yiruma's 'River Flows In You' I found online." If there were crickets in the base, they would've chirped. Every pair of eyes in the room turns to Lúcio, all of them looking mildly exasperated. "What," Lúcio retorts defensively, a hand over his heart as if mortally wounded, "no one thinks I _only_ listen to EDM, right?"

Grabbing his shoulder and shaking him, D.Va whines, "We wanna hear _your_ music!"

"Oh." Lúcio laughs, heel tapping against the floor. "Well I know I'm under contract to not play 'Hana's Theme' for anyone until the movie is out, so I'll see what I have saved."

"I knew I brought you to Korea for a reason!"

Lúcio scrolls through his playlist, pausing on an old file he hadn't touched for years until arriving in Seoul. "Alright, found one." He considers that it isn't too late to change his mind, but presses on when he catches Hana's eye, her expression open and encouraging. "The person I wrote this for never had a chance to hear it," he says, voice soft, "but it's called _Céu_. Sky." He pauses a moment, privately hoping that Genji won't take it personally if he's still listening on the other end of the stream. "Since I'm in Korea, this is dedicated to everyone who fights to protect others."

He'd written it not long after uprooting Vishkar from Rio, bits and pieces of it composed between back-to-back funerals. The ceremonies themselves were invariably somber, saturated with grief and loss; in the moments Lúcio managed to steal between each, he'd composed melodies to celebrate a bittersweet triumph, playing them to empty air. 

The room is dead silent as his mix starts, an optimistic minor-key piano melody laid over a slow chillstep beat, the bassline deep and resonant. He tweaks it even as it plays, anticipating certain notes and adjusting on the fly, concentrating so hard on the music that he can ignore the familiar ache in his chest whenever he thinks about Brazil. About how long he's been away from home, everything he'd lost there. 

All the times he thought that he could've just left it to someone else, stayed home and scraped by under Vishkar's thumb. Maybe he'd still have his legs, wouldn't be looking over his shoulder every few minutes, wouldn't be targeted by Talon and Vishkar and whoever they pull into their web. 

The melody changes, switches key. 

He never would've sold out stadiums in Numbani and King's Row, though. Never would've met Genji, never would've joined Overwatch. Maybe the Lúcio who kept his head down has no regrets about his choice, but neither does the one who'd decided to take a stand.

A sniffle next to him draws his attention as the music fades out. Every member of MEKA is in tears as well, and Hana shuffles forward, under the arm Lúcio extends to her. Wiping her eyes with his shirt, she giggles at the groan he lets out, smacking him lightly on the shoulder as everyone trickles out of the rec room. "It's your fault," she whispers, "you're not supposed to make people happy and sad at the _same time_."

* * *

At lunch the next day, after Hana's morning warm-up drill (several matches in a simulator), she kicks her feet against the crossbar under her bench, wincing at an article on her phone. "Oh no," she sighs, "I knew that was gonna come back to bite us."

Lúcio looks at her, giving up for the moment on trying to figure out how to pick up a metal bowl of rice without burning his fingers. "What's up? What happened?"

"Nnnnh," Hana groans as she hands her phone over, a photo of her and Lúcio hugging in front of the memorial case onscreen. The shot looks like it was taken from a distance, probably through a window. "Paparazzi. It says we're dating."

Lúcio's brow rises, his nose wrinkling. "Aren't you like, half my age?"

"You know I'm not!"

"I mean from my end," he says, sounding perfectly calm in contrast to Hana's anxiety over dragging him into a media storm, "I don't see any problem even if rumors start going around. It's not like they're true." It helps that he's been through the wringer with tabloids and rumor mags numerous times, now desensitized to the kind of havoc they could wreak on his image. Most of the trouble he gets into is usually caused by external forces anyway, no evidence to pin on him personally. 

"Most of my fans are okay," Hana says, not even remotely reassured, "but some of them are really bad. They don't think I should date at all, ever, and a lot of them are super racist. Some of the sasaengs could really hurt you, Lúcio." 

"I'm guessing the selfies in Gibraltar didn't help," he sighs, returning her phone and going back to his food.

"I'm really sorry."

"Hey, hey, don't be sorry." Lúcio's finally located his spoon and dug into his helping of kimchi fried rice. After swallowing his first mouthful and nodding in appreciation, he taps a finger against his chest. "And it's 'hyung', remember? I'm 'hyung'."

"Lúcio!" she says, despairing.

"Look, let's take a selfie." He puts down his spoon, mimes snapping a picture with his phone. "Caption it 'We know we're both super fabulous, but the rumors aren't true! Sorry!' Frowny-face emoji, crying emoji, laughing emoji, laughing while crying emoji, broken heart emoji. Done."

Hana deflates, quickly understanding that there really isn't much else to do, and if the fans get really bad she could always sic the government on them. A professional gamer might not be able to do much, but the South Korean government's star MEKA pilot? "I'm usually a lot more careful about this stuff," she says, standing up and moving around the table to sit next to Lúcio, raising her phone. "Sad faces, okay?"

Laughing as she edits, Lúcio taps his fingers against the table, pulling out his own phone to like and repost. "Someone should spread rumors about my secret robot boyfriend," he quips.

"You guys don't make a big secret of it at all," Hana points out, pouting as she adds filters and captions, then finally posts. "Super obvious all the time, I dunno how half the base hasn't realized it yet."

"Okay, true."

Squinting down at her screen, D.Va looks up and regards Lúcio's face once the likes and comment notifications start flooding her phone. "Did you sleep okay? You don't look so good."

"Well, I kinda wish Genji was around."

Hana drawls, a smarmy grin on her face as she stands and motions for Lúcio to eat faster, "'Cause you miss him?"

"Haha! Yeah." Lúcio bites back his next comment, standing with D.Va and picking up his tray to clear his meal away. It wasn't until he'd met Genji that he noticed how much time he no longer spent looking over his shoulder, tense and ready to fight. Genji's senses are sharper than his (augmented by cybernetics), his reactions faster (trained from childhood), his weapons sharper and more deadly. Anything that can get by Genji would take out Lúcio in a second; incidentally, not many things are capable of bypassing Genji under any circumstance.

"You two talk almost every day, how could you possibly miss him?"

Lúcio snorts, bracing his elbow on Hana's shoulder to use it as an armrest. Not so simple, considering she's a little taller than him, but he manages. "Look, okay, it's different having him in person."

"Ooooh, tell me."

"Uh, I'm not talking about this with you."

"I'm not a kid!" Hana elbows him in the ribs, latching onto his arm and squeezing it while he tries to walk faster. "You can tell me if he's good in bed, hyung. He has to be, right? There's no way he could drag girls to the arcade with neon green hair and suck in that department." Shaking her head and looking very sure of herself she concludes, "There has to be a payoff for hanging out with someone _that_ dorky."

"Maybe he's got a good personality," Lúcio retorts, taken with the urge to defend Genji's honor. Actually sharing details about their private life doesn't appeal to him in the least, however.

Hana's eyes narrow. "Are you saying he's bad at it?"

"Oh my god."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nonbinary d.va :3


	10. Chapter 10

Unexpectedly, Lúcio runs into Hanzo and Mei first upon arriving at the base, several hours ahead of the time he'd given Winston; midnight rather than early morning. He'd planned to surprise Genji, but passing by the entertainment room he catches Mei leaving and stops for an update on everything that's happened in the last week. She looks excited to see him, hinting several times at some sort of surprise but declining to tell him when he probes her for more information. When he finally gives up, bidding her good night, Hanzo steps in front of him before Lúcio can head for the dorm wing himself.

"Hey," Lúcio says, moving to duck around him. "G'night."

"Do you have a minute to speak?"

Lúcio pauses. His desire to speak with Hanzo rates at around a negative ninety-nine percent; Genji may have forgiven his brother, but Lúcio's not so ready to forget, and even less likely to trust someone with the capacity to try and murder their own brother. Besides, his duffel bag is heavy, full of equipment, its strap digging into his shoulder. He doesn't forget favors though, and the incident in Hanamura could've ended up much worse than it did if it weren't for Hanzo.

"Yeah," Lúcio says after nearly ten seconds of weighing his options. "Sure."

Hanzo inhales deeply. "You and Genji..."

Lúcio just barely suppresses a bored groan. He gives Hanzo a blank, neutral smile instead, trying to at least maintain a general vibe of civility. "Yep."

"I did not expect Genji to be in a relationship with a man."

If Hanzo's trying to make conversation, Lúcio decides that he's bad at it. Just done with half a day's travel standing in an empty corridor in the middle of the night isn't an ideal time for interacting with Genji's-brother-who-tried-to-murder-him, but he gets the distinct impression that Hanzo's working up to something and his curiosity gets the better of him.

"Okay," Lúcio prompts, "and?" 

"When we were younger," says Hanzo, each word properly enunciated, "he spent much time and energy consorting with women. Maybe I don't know him as well as I thought I did."

Lúcio cocks his head to the side, trying to find a quality in Hanzo's voice that's anything like Genji's and coming up empty. They don't even have similar mannerisms: Genji's restrained grace is constructed and deliberate, but Hanzo's seems natural to his being. No hint of the playful current that underlies all of Genji's movements-- a still, expansive lake to a lively river. 

"He says a lot has changed," Lúcio answers after a second, trying not to be too harsh in his judgment. He's obviously biased. "Maybe you could get to know him again now."

"Is it so simple?"

Lúcio's mouth skews to the side, his nose wrinkling slightly. "It's what he wants."

"But not you," says Hanzo. He's almost as unnervingly observant as Genji, and they've clearly been talking in the week Lúcio was gone. Genji hasn't sent detailed updates, but in his messages he's alluded to conversations with Hanzo-- mostly about Watchpoint security and its facilities. The eldest Shimada's also been in talks with Winston about how to manage the scant funds that have been languishing in a trust since Overwatch disbanded, putting the skills he apparently refined as the head of a yakuza family to reorganizing Overwatch's structure. 

Lúcio crosses his arms over his chest, not denying the observation but softening it, just a bit. "I want him to be happy," he says frankly, "with or without you in his life."

"Is his happiness truly your concern?"

"What, you don't believe me?"

"He no longer pays attention to others' online activities," says Hanzo, finally getting to the point, "but I do."

The part of Lúcio that _lives_ for drama perks. "What're you trying to say?" he asks, eyes wide, playing at obliviousness, but his voice takes on a challenge he knows Hanzo can hear.

"If you hurt him--"

"Y'know," Lúcio interrupts, smile gone in an instant, "I'm not sure you're in any position to be threatening me for hurting Genji."

Hanzo wasn't expecting that. 

He blinks, jarred by the sudden shift in Lúcio's tone, the neutrality of his expression-- from someone usually so upbeat and positive, it's practically hostile. "That's true," he concedes, wary now. The research he'd turned up on Lúcio doesn't reference Genji in any context, but D.Va's name turned up frequently enough, the two of them all over each other's social media accounts. The recent news about them hadn't been encouraging but whatever Genji feels about it (if he'd even seen it), he certainly never discussed it with his brother. "I cannot undo what I did to him," Hanzo continues, "I can only attempt to protect him in the future, in whatever ways I can."

"He doesn't need you to protect him, he needs you to be a brother to him." However much their goals seem to align, Lúcio still can't bring himself to _like_ Hanzo. When the other man shifts, his shoulders drooping from their usual tense, aggressive confidence into a gesture more fitting with the lines on his face, Lúcio sighs. _There it is_ , he thinks, _maybe they really are brothers._ "If you can't do that, maybe you being around is a mistake."

Hanzo stays rooted in place, his feet leaden weights. Of course this is the man Genji chooses: bold and irreverent, carefree on the surface but capable of keen insight and bottomless loyalty. 

The two of them are alike in ways that make Hanzo's legs physically hurt, old scars throbbing in memory. There were years that Genji had revealed the depths of his intelligence and skill only to Hanzo, putting up a facade of careless nonsense for every other person in the world, even the Shimada family elders. The latter had been shocked at Hanzo's brutality on that day, expecting a clean, one sided finish to their fight instead of the sheer destruction the two of them managed to inflict on the estate in less than five minutes of battle. Genji hadn't even fought to wound, only to escape. 

"For what it's worth," Lúcio offers, sidestepping Hanzo on the way back to his room, suddenly deeply tired, "nothing's going on with me and Hana, and Genji knows it. If you're trying to make peace, I'm not the one you gotta be talking to."

* * *

Passing Genji and Zenyatta's room, Lúcio hears talk and laughter from within, the thin sliver of light under the door bright, shadows occasionally moving across it. The two of them don't need much sleep, though the nights Genji stays in Lúcio's room he always sticks around until morning. Resisting the urge to pop in, Lúcio veers toward his own room instead, dropping his bag by the door and grabbing a change of clothes before heading to the bathroom to shower. 

He wrings out his hair as he changes into a loose sleeveless t-shirt and the usual oversized shorts, wrapping a towel around his head before he trots across the corridor and knocks on the door. "Hey," he calls when the conversation inside abruptly stops, "I'm back!"

Before he can even reach for the knob, the door opens, Genji standing in the doorway. His visor is off, a grin lighting up his entire face. He has dark circles under his eyes but otherwise looks fine. A thin, Overwatch-issue blanket is half on the floor behind him, as if he'd dragged it with him springing out of bed. Genji leans down, arms curling around Lúcio's waist as Lúcio's sling over his shoulders, wrapping around his neck. "I missed you," Genji sighs, his breath hot against Lúcio's collar as he lifts the smaller man in a crushing bear hug.

"I couldn't tell," Lúcio answers, laughing, stumbling slightly when he's finally set back down. He waves at Zenyatta, allowing Genji to pull him into the room by his wrist and nudge the door shut behind them. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

"You are always welcome to join us," Zenyatta tells him, his voice warm with affection. "We were only discussing an article I read recently."

"Oh yeah?" Lúcio scoops Genji's abandoned blanket off the floor and flings himself onto the bed, curling it around himself as Genji settles beside him, reclining against a pillow. "What's it about?"

"It was a discussion on how language in certain sectors has changed since the Crisis," Zenyatta tells him, hands folded in his lap. He sits on the cot set up for him, shifted closer to Genji's bed from its usual spot across the room. "A writer from Numbani."

"Journo 3.0," supplies Genji. "She was programmed to be a copy-editor, but began writing her own articles. Isn't that incredible? You should see the earlier pieces."

Sitting up, Lúcio crosses his legs and leans forward, fingers curling around his knees, thumbs flicking idly at seams in the metal. "Gimme summary?"

"It used to be that a computer which possesses AI was simply an AI," Genji rattles off. "A robot that appears to be human is an android, and a human that appears to be robot is a cyborg. But the lines have blurred since the Crisis." 

"Right, 'cause prosthetics had to develop so fast to keep up with how many people were injured. And, omnics."

Genji nods at him. "Before," he continues, tapping his own chest, "any human with cybernetic enhancements could be called a cyborg, but recently the definition of cyborg refers only to humans whose cybernetics provide some form of life support. Those with cybernetic removable prostheses are 'cybernetically enhanced humans'." He gestures at Lúcio, then finally at Zenyatta. "Machines with sentience and self-determination algorithms in their AI are omnics. The goal is to take into account the diversity of people with varying proportions of machinery, to make connections while maintaining distinction between those who rely on cybernetics."

"Whoa," says Lúcio, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He'd known that Genji was educated, well-read, his knowledge of history and literature as deep and thorough as his familiarity with early-century memes and pop culture. It doesn't come as surprise that he'd keep up with the omnic rights issue, but the topic itself is turning out to be a bit more complex than Lúcio'd initially suspected. "That's a mouthful."

Genji waves a dismissive hand. "The vocabulary changes constantly, however, so it is best not to get too attached. Also, many omnics are androids as well."

"The three of us span almost the entire spectrum," Zenyatta says, sounding pleased by the idea. 

"Actually," Lúcio cuts in, "I can hook us up with an android."

As if by reflex Genji quips, "We could form a band."

Zenyatta laughs at Genji's joke, helpless little hitches in his voice as his feet kick in delight. Genji's skewed smile says to Lúcio that most of his silly moments arise out of a desire to make Zenyatta laugh, his expression both indulgent and full of respect. Lúcio wrings the hem of his shirt between his hands, fighting the urge to draw Genji's attention back to fix only on him. "Hey," he says once Zenyatta's settled down, the omnic returning to a state of serene peace as if to make up for his lapse in seriousness, "I know the Shambali believe that omnics have souls, but Genji said 'sentience and self-determination algorithms' just now?"

"Not every omnic believes in the existence of a soul," Zenyatta answers, a smile in his voice, as if in appreciation of Lúcio's observation, "just as not every human does. But all omnics have this algorithm."

"And who is to say that what people call a human soul isn't just a sentience and self-determination algorithm in our brains? The existence of a soul is up for debate, but this algorithm has been proven to exist."

"Oh man," Lúcio says, feigning horror, "Genji doesn't believe in souls."

"I do not reject the existence of souls," Genji counters. "I simply believe it is the combination of our emotions and reasoning. Mind and heart. Whether there is anything else to it, is not in my hands. In any case, 'sentience and self-determination algorithm' is the preferred term for the moment."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Lúcio leans into Genji's side. "I've read a bit about omnic rights, but uh, not nearly enough. Got a pretty good idea of how it all goes down, though."

"The omnic rights movement borrows heavily from other such organized actions throughout history," says Zenyatta, nodding. "From student protests in Taiwan, to the Civil Rights movement in America, the Tibetan resistance in China, the Quilombos in Brazil, and many others. Unfortunately, not all of us pay due respect to that legacy, but I hear that is so with humans as well."

"Well," Lúcio says with a wry smile, cautiously testing the waters, "some of those are still ongoing. I know the crowds I travel in, not everyone involved is happy with the omnics even if they're down with the cause."

"It is understandable. Equated to machines after a history of being treated as subhuman, movements co-opted and overshadowed by omnics who exploit the fruits of their labor but do not return the effort." Zenyatta straightens his back, hands folded in his lap. Even moreso than his usual posture, it looks thoughtful. "It is one of many reasons I left the Shambali. Instead of cloistering ourselves, we should have put our considerable resources to standing with those who are also oppressed, regardless of how they feel about omnics." 

"I'm starting to wonder what Genji was like before he met you," Lúcio says, trying not to laugh as Genji pokes him in the side.

"It is only through unity that we can achieve harmony," Zenyatta recites, head canting in affectionate amusement at Genji's mildly offended expression.

"You believe Overwatch is the way to do it?"

"I believe that Overwatch can be a force for peace." He tilts his head forward, shoulders pulling back, the lights on his head brightening with his tone. "It gives me great hope to see people like you in it, Lúcio."

"Hey, that means a lot coming from you." He rarely has a chance to set politics aside, but for the moment Lúcio feels comfortable doing so. Whatever he says, there's something about Zenyatta that convinces him the omnic wouldn't take it the wrong way, or intentionally miss his point. Genji's been silent as well, watching the two of them and listening intently. "Personally, I just hate seeing anyone taken advantage just for who or what they are."

Genji has almost no experience with the topic of this conversation-- growing up rich and spoiled, second heir to an ancient household settled in the shadow of Mt. Fuji. Even as a cyborg, the moment most people find out that he isn't actually an omnic, they treat him well. The implications of Lúcio's words are clear, however. His arm snakes around Lúcio's waist, hand settling on his hip and pulling him close. _I can't do anything about those who have mistreated you before we met,_ the gesture seems to say, _but I dare anyone to try again now that I am by your side_.

The tension that had curled tight in Lúcio's gut ever since leaving Gibraltar seeps away in waves and he nearly nods off as the conversation moves on around him, Genji volleying questions to Zenyatta. He jerks out of it only when Genji loosens the towel around his head and brushes a loc out of his face, behind his ear. "Your hair is still wet," the cyborg says softly. "Is there anything I can do so you can sleep now?"

Lúcio yawns. He picks a strand and twists it, gently wringing a few drops of water out of its core. "You got a dry towel?"

"We have microfiber towels for drying gaskets when it rains," Zenyatta offers. Genji's the only one with gaskets though, all of Zenyatta's interlocking parts being made of metal. "I hear it works better than terrycloth."

"Ah, we do!" Genji leans across his bed, sprawling across to drag a gym bag out from under it. He rummages for a few seconds, coming up with two washcloth-sized squares of microfiber. He tosses one to Lúcio, taking the other and twisting it around his fingers as Lúcio goes to work, leaning forward, head down as he squeezes the moisture out of his hair. "It does work better."

"You've experimented," Lúcio says, more observation than question. He looks at Genji through a gap in his locs as he rolls one thick strand between his palms to tighten it, grinning when he notices Genji admiring his biceps as they stretch and flex. "Nothing but the best, right?"

"Of course." After a moment of watching closely, Genji exchanges a look with Zenyatta and brandishes the towel he'd kept, shifting to sit behind Lúcio. "May I help? If you have to do this to every single one, you will be here until morning."

"Oh, I'm used to it--" Lúcio grins when Zenyatta leans forward, looking intensely curious, "but yeah, that'd be great."

* * *

Lúcio has no idea when he fell asleep, but sometime later he has a vague impression of being picked up, stirring when Genji exchanges a 'good night' with Zenyatta. "I can walk," he mumbles, glancing up at the underside of Genji's jaw. He's put his visor back on, the slit of green light focused ahead. Lúcio looks down at his legs, one of Genji's arms hooked under his knees and the other supporting his shoulders, grip careful but firm. "You can put me down."

"I don't want to," Genji answers, striding across the corridor and depositing Lúcio in his own bed. Sitting beside him, he waits for Lúcio to wrangle his hair into its usual scarf before sighing, long and loud. "You should have told me you would be back early," says Genji, watching Lúcio crawl under the covers and press his face into the cool surface of his pillow, "I would have come to pick you up."

Lúcio rolls over onto his back and shuffles to the side, tugging insistently on Genji's wrist until the cyborg slides under the blanket with him. "Yeah, I know. I just wanted to surprise you."

"Consider me surprised." Staying propped up on his elbow, Genji snorts as Lúcio fits his back into the curve of his armored chest. He removes his visor and helm, a familiar hiss-click signifying the action and the graze of lips against the side of Lúcio's neck drawing a contented sigh. 

Lúcio glances over his shoulder, meeting Genji's eyes. They're barely visible in the dark, except for pinpricks of green-tinged light reflected in them. There's no chance anything had changed between them in the week Lúcio was gone, but he asks as he turns away again, "You're gonna stay with me 'til morning?"

Maybe it was the distance, or the time apart, but Genji senses a note to Lúcio's voice that's careful and hesitant, completely unlike his usual irrepressible cheer. "Did something happen in Korea?" he murmurs, his lips warm on the shell of Lúcio's ear. His arm slips under the pillow, weight settling into the creaky Overwatch-issue mattress. Lúcio grabs his other hand, pulling it up to his chest, cool metal arm laid across his ribs. 

"You're asking me about that picture too?"

"I know there is nothing going on between you and Song-kun." A huff, quick and warm against the nape of his neck. "I just thought you looked upset."

"Why are you like this?" Lúcio groans, letting go and turning over to face Genji, his jaw jutting forward. Logically, Genji should be at least mildly annoyed with him and Hana-- their carelessness, or how much time they spend around each other, or even how Lúcio never mentions Genji on his accounts while D.Va's all over them. He frowns, framing Genji's face with his hands, thumbs brushing lightly across the apples of his cheeks.

"Is something wrong?"

"Every time I think I can't like you more," Lúcio complains, "you go and say something like that. You're not mad?"

"What other people say has nothing to do with you and me." Genji turns onto his back, sighing contentedly as Lúcio drapes himself over his torso. "She is a loyal friend, and I trust you."

Lúcio takes a moment to kiss him breathless, no doubt compounded by the weight of an entire DJ pressing down on his chest. Still, it's nice to be the one leaving Genji dazed for once. "MEKA's got a big memorial case set up for everyone who got killed in action," he says, crossing his arms under his chin, "I just got... caught up."

Genji traces the edge of Lúcio's tattoo, a calming gesture but also a question.

"Yeah. Hana told me how you two met. Snapped me right out of it."

"Did she also tell you I let her win a few rounds of Fighters to make her feel better?"

While Lúcio's upper body stays still, the tip of his prosthetic foot taps idly on Genji's shin armor, lightweight aluminum against a stretch of reinforced titanium. Genji's never questioned why he doesn't take them off, knowing instinctively the need to be battle-ready at a moment's notice. "I mean," he drawls, sounding doubtful, "did you though?"

"I take back all the nice things I have said about you," Genji retorts, his hands on Lúcio's waist belying his tone. "I am in bed with a traitor."

Lúcio's teeth flash, catching the reflection off the light in the center of Genji's chest. "Your brother tried to have The Talk with me, too. The 'if you hurt him' one, you know."

Silent for a moment, Genji replies with a resigned, "I forgot how dramatic he is." 

"I told him to leave you alone if he wasn't gonna bother trying to make things right."

It's Genji's turn to frown, a serious, thoughtful expression on his face in stark contrast to the teasing banter they had just been volleying at each other. "You did not have to do that," he says after another stretch of quiet.

"No," Lúcio replies, "but I wanted to. It still blows my mind that you've forgiven him."

"You still dislike him?"

"I consider myself a pretty nice guy," he mumbles, "but I'm not a saint, and he's not _my_ brother."

"Let me rephrase," Genji says, his voice low, growing rough with agitation. "You should not have done that. Whatever issues I have with Hanzo are mine to resolve. If you had ignored him and let me know, I would have told him to back off."

Lúcio pushes himself up on his elbows, unable to bring attention to how tired Genji looks when the two of them can barely see in the darkness, but hoping to emphasize the point anyway. "It's messing you up just having him around."

"It is my decision."

"It affects all of us."

"I will try harder to ensure that it doesn't." Genji's hands move up to Lúcio's shoulders, curling around his upper arms. "Above all else," he says, voice soft and pleading, "I do not wish for him to seek death as I once did, and I want to help him if I can. He has saved me more than once."

"Genji--"

"Lúcio, please listen to me." Genji leans up, his forehead thunking lightly against Lúcio's, their lips just barely grazing. "Hanzo ruins _everything_. I will not allow him to ruin what we have."

Lúcio snorts, somewhat reassured that Genji isn't completely unaware of the danger inherent in dragging his brother kicking and screaming back into his life. "It's running you down, man."

"I truly appreciate you acting to protect me, Lúcio. It means more to me than I know how to express." Genji sighs again, tilting his head up to brush a chaste kiss across Lúcio's cheek. "But my relationship with my brother is something we need to fix on our own." 

"That," Lúcio muses, "is the nicest way anyone's ever told me to butt out."

"Trust that I can handle this."

"I do. You know I do." Lúcio buries his nose in the crook of Genji's neck, his breath washing over synthetic muscle. "But you don't have to do this alone, alright? I'm with you."

* * *

"You'd think a national hero could afford something other than a red-eye flight," Lúcio gripes, cranking his passenger seat back while Genji's fingers tap against the steering wheel. Since his last trip into town Overwatch had leased a minivan, more soccer mom than international task force, but for transporting people it gets the job done. They've been at the airport for about half an hour, waiting for Hana to pass customs and pick up her luggage which-- again, shouldn't a national hero and global celebrity be able to bypass? 

"Song-kun is coming now," Genji tells him, reaching across the gap between them and resting his hand on the nape of Lúcio's neck, thumb massaging a knot in his shoulder as he leans into the touch. Genji pulls away when Hana opens the car door and slides into the back, her luggage loaded into the trunk by a starstruck porter, autographed customs form clutched in one hand. 

"Thanks for picking me up!" she chirps, blowing them each a kiss. 

"About time," Lúcio grumbles playfully, laughing and grabbing her hand as she reaches around his headrest to poke him on the cheek. 

"Don't let me interrupt," D.Va answers, "I don't wanna be a third wheel, okay sunbae?"

"Song-kun," Genji sighs, "the package?"

"I didn't forget!" Hana digs through her carry-on bag, extracting a box and dropping it into Lúcio's lap as Genji pulls them out of the passenger pickup area to the airport exit. "I can't believe you made me go all the way out to Shanghai to pick this up. You couldn't have just mailed it?"

"Thanks. I know it was out of your way."

Lúcio looks between them, fingers curling around the edge of the box in search of some seam to pry it open. It's light, the contents shifting inside, sinuous and soft. "What is it?"

"Open it!" D.Va practically shouts, drumming her feet against the back of his chair.

"Oh, by the way," he drawls, flashing Genji a sly grin as he purposefully stalls, "did you know I got Hana to call me 'hyung'?"

Genji sets the van to autopilot and looks over his shoulder as they merge onto the road toward Gibraltar. His visor trained on Hana's face, he gestures vaguely at himself and Lúcio. "Should we be referring to you differently?"

"Nah," Hana answers, "I just think it fits him better, you know?"

"Then what about me?"

She sticks her tongue out at him, then laughs, crinkling her nose. "Sunbae is just sunbae."

Twenty minutes later Hana's head is pillowed on her duffel bag, the girl lulled to sleep by lights passing above them and the vehicle's steady hum, her ten-hour flight. Lúcio finally opens the box, folding back tissue-thin paper to reveal a stretch of cool, dark green fabric. It's smooth, almost fluid under his fingertips, shimmering in the dim, intermittent glow of street lights.

Genji looks at him, waiting as Lúcio frees the material from its box, pulling it through his fingers. "It is for your hair," says Genji, softly enough to not disturb Hana, "if you choose to use it for that purpose."

Pulling the fabric over his shoulders, Lúcio whistles under his breath as it slides across his neck, practically caressing his skin as it shifts. He runs one end through his fingers, curls it around his wrist, then holds it up for a closer look. "That's why you were suddenly so interested in my routine."

"I did some research," Genji explains, sounding very proud of himself for his initiative, "and it said silk is a suitable material. It has the same dimensions as your usual scarf."

"This is high-grade stuff, Genji." Lúcio takes a bunch of silk in each hand and shoves it under his nose, marveling at its texture, some impression of weight and heft behind each fold despite it being much lighter than any fabric Lúcio's ever handled before. "Should I really be using it for something like that?"

"Why wouldn't you? If you use something, it should be the best of its kind. It will last longer, and work better." The implication, whether or not Genji knows it, is that Lúcio will never have to cut up another old t-shirt ever again to serve as a wrap. His smile grows slightly strained, pride smarting. Genji doesn't seem to notice with half of Lúcio's face hidden, head cocking to the side as if he can't imagine why anyone would choose otherwise. "Maintained properly, silk of this quality can last generations."

Eyes narrowing, Lúcio peers at him over the silk bunched up over the bottom of his face, unable to pull away from the sensation of luxurious fabric against his cheeks, nose, lips and chin. He's probably getting face oil on it, but for all of Genji's talk about 'lasting generations', the cyborg mostly seems ecstatic that Lúcio likes his present. Still, he can't resist a light jab. "So this is what a rich kid is like, huh?"

Genji's visor flashes in understanding, his shoulders pulling back. "I'm sorry," he says quickly even as Lúcio gets distracted by a design dyed on one end, "I didn't mean--"

"Hey! My logo!"

Sighing, Genji lets the topic go; Lúcio certainly seems to have. "I thought about using your tattoo pattern," he says, "but that is more than just a symbol to you so I decided against it."

Saying nothing, Lúcio haphazardly folds the scarf, unused to the slippery material and managing an awkward square. "How am I supposed to match that, Genji?" he asks after a beat, running his fingers over the silk. "This is freakin' beautiful."

Genji looks at him, posing the question entirely through body language, in the curious tilt of his head and the set of his shoulders.

Lúcio stares down at the fabric pooled in his lap, its colors shifting between dark and lime-green, a frog-with-headphones grinning up at him. He absently clasps his hand over the tattoo on his shoulder, thumb stroking along the edge of raised skin, some subconscious gesture of comfort Genji had noticed within hours of meeting him. "It's like you don't get jealous or mad or scared at all," he sighs, "and I'm all of those things all the time."

"I do. It is simply easier for me to not show it." That gets a small chuckle, Lúcio rolling his eyes at Genji's weak joke. He looks up when cool metal fingers brush his cheek, curling under his chin with the deliberate care Genji unfailingly treats him with. "As for yourself, I see your generosity, kindness and courage much more than any other traits."

Glancing into the back seat to ensure that Hana's still asleep, Lúcio pulls away from Genji's touch, distracting as it is. Some part of him itches to remove that visor, to see Genji's face while they're having this conversation, though Genji often forgets about expressions entirely when he's focused. Too many years of relying only on his physical mannerisms, too used to living with his face obscured. He grits his teeth, nails digging into his tattoo. "And it doesn't seem to bother you at all whenever Taka comes up. I don't get it."

"From what I understand," Genji says slowly, tension in the set of his shoulders, hands moving to hover protectively in front of him. "He was someone who made you very happy while you were together. I am grateful to him for that."

"I don't feel that way about Zenyatta," Lúcio mumbles, gambling on Genji's seemingly bottomless patience to not take the sentiment personally. "I like him, and it means a lot to me that he helped you, but it always feels like the relationship you have with him is more than what we've got." He's acutely aware of his own irrationality, Genji's preoccupied silence filling the space. "I dunno! I'm competitive."

"I've known him much longer. It is not inaccurate to say that I would not be the man you know if it weren't for him." Genji looks at the road, checking that the car's autopilot won't need his attention. Then he turns back to Lúcio, visor training itself with unwavering focus on his face. "I do not think my relationship with my teacher is stronger, but it is older, and more stable. I... suspected that that could make you uneasy, but never acted on it. For that, I apologize."

"I just think that's not all between you and him," Lúcio challenges, deciding that if they're going to have this conversation he might as well clear the air. "But don't apologize, alright?"

Genji nods. "For a time, I did develop feelings for him that were not strictly those of a student toward his master, or as a friend toward a friend. I was lonely, angry and afraid, and he showed me patience and kindness." He pauses, reaching behind his head and unclipping his mask, flashing a slow, understanding smile when his face finally becomes visible. "I owe a great debt to him, but what I feel for you is very different."

"I mean, I'd hope so." Lúcio can feel his face growing warm, barely able to meet Genji's eyes. The cyborg seems exponentially calmer, two of them finally at the root of something that had been vaguely gnawing at the back of Lúcio's mind ever since they'd met. Even though it had never been enough of an issue to affect their interactions, Lúcio feels a weight lift off his shoulders, giving himself to the resigned affection that settles in its place. They'll never know every aspect of each others' lives; they don't need to. 

Slinging the scarf around Genji's neck, Lucio holds tight to the ends and drags Genji across the space between them, leaning in himself to plant a soft kiss on the other man's cheek. Then he lets go, draping the material back over his shoulders. _Useful_ , says his smug expression, _for more than one purpose._

"He is also a monk, Lúcio." There's a quiet laugh in Genji's voice as he replaces his visor, then a note of sheepish embarrassment as he continues, "Before this, I had not been in a relationship since I received my new body."

"That's ten years." 

"Yes."

Mind reeling, Lucio shakes his head. "Am I pushing this too fast? You gotta tell me if I am."

Genji's entire body turns to him, as if drawn to some invisible radiance and warmth. "I have never felt rushed," he says, "with you."


	11. Chapter 11

At breakfast, Hana sighs, slumping over the table as Lúcio works his way through a roll of sticky rice. It's Mei's turn to make breakfast, and she had explained in exacting detail the contents of every one of her offerings ('In case of dietary restrictions,' she'd said) before absconding to her garden with a cup of soymilk. 

"You're not hungry?" Lúcio asks when D.Va sighs again, head lolling, her hair in a messy bun while Genji and Zenyatta chat at the end of the table. 

"I'll eat later," she answers, rubbing her shoulder. 

Taking the hint, Lúcio leans forward onto his elbows, an exaggerated expression of concern on his face. "You alright?"

Hana's face visibly brightens as she sits up, putting on a show of discomfort. Lúcio considers privately that 'technically an adult' doesn't mean all that much when a nineteen-year-old is separated from her parents, her squad, her country-- Genji's turned his attention to them as well, watching quietly while D.Va rolls her shoulder and cracks her neck. "My arm is killing me!" she announces. "We were trying some new maneuvers and no one wanted to stop until we got it right, so now the whole squad's got RSI."

"You should see Dr. Ziegler before participating in any more assignments or training exercises," Genji cuts in, sounding as if he might volunteer to go with her, but he's scheduled to patrol the Watchpoint's perimeter and Lúcio offers first.

"I'll go with you after breakfast," he says, pushing a plate of scallion pancakes toward her. "After you eat, alright?"

"Okay," Hana sighs, picking up a slice and reluctantly biting into it-- then less reluctantly as she begins to eat in earnest. "Fine," she says, crumbs flying, "thanks, Lúcio."

"Uh," says Lúcio, cupping his hand behind his ear and leaning forward, "excuse me?"

Rolling her eyes, Hana shakes her head and laughs. "Thanks, _hyung_."

Lúcio ignores an undignified snort from Genji, the affectionate tilt of his head. "I wanted to ask Mercy about something anyway."

"Oh." Hana pauses, looking carefully at Lúcio's face. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah, it's nothing big." Out of the corner of his eye Lúcio sees Genji turn, the set of his shoulders tense. If he doesn't give a reason for going to see their resident doctor, Genji might be on him about it for the rest of the week, or at least silently wondering if he'd missed something. "Just wanted to see if she's got any textbooks still around from med school, y'know?"

Hana nods. "They're all digital now," she says excitedly, "I bet she can just pull them up for you."

"That's what I'm counting on!"

"Can you send me a copy too?"

Lúcio checks a clock on the wall, flashing D.Va a smile when she leans across the table and waves a hand in his face. "Sure."

"Would you get a degree?" she asks.

"It's not priority," he answers, watching Genji's attention turn back to Zenyatta, "but maybe when I have the time. A certification of some kind would come in handy for any projects I wanna start back home, though." 

"Projects?"

"Mentor programs, clinics. Stuff like that." Lúcio props his chin on his hand, skates tapping erratically against the crossbar under his bench. The memories of his friends-- sick, injured, shot-- rise to the front of his mind. He can't even count the number of them who could've had limbs or lives saved if the hospital were closer, if he'd had some kind of way to transport them, if their calls for help had been answered with any kind of urgency. "Kids in the favela don't have a lot of options," he says, keeping his tone light, "so I wanna do what I can. I can find people to help but if I don't know what I'm doing myself, that's a good way to get ripped off, y'know?"

Hana seems to sense the weight behind his words, her expression serious and thoughtful. "You're really thinking ahead, huh?"

"Hey, with great money comes great responsibility." Knocking his ankle against Genji's under the table, Lúcio moves to stand, motioning for Hana to get up as well. He flashes a wry grin when a hand settles on the small of his back, Genji's visor turned up to him before he slowly skates backwards toward the main doors out of the mess hall, swaying slightly to maintain momentum. "Hey, Hana-- we should go."

"Coming," she calls back, hopping out of her seat and jogging after him, "I'm coming!"

Genji looks after them, grabbing two flaky buns (stuffed with shredded daikon) off the table and packing them into a wax paper bag. "I should be going as well."

Nodding, Zenyatta sends him off with a fistbump. "Be safe, Genji."

"And you, master."

* * *

Hanzo's waiting by the radar array, bow held loosely in his hand, quiver full. He stands with his back straight, gold ribbon fluttering dramatically in the breeze. 

Genji shakes his head as he approaches. "I am here," he says. 

The last time Genji had seen fit to initiate a conversation, he'd grabbed Hanzo by the lining of his gi, hand fisting in the material and dragging it up-- forward, so their faces were an inch apart. He never did hesitate to use his marginal advantage in height. _Stay away from Lúcio,_ he'd said, voice a low, raspy growl. _Don't talk to him, don't look at him, don't be in the same room as him. Don't involve him in our mess ever again._

Hanzo had pried Genji's fingers off his neckband, cyborg grip predictably strong but not quite enough to match an archer's draw hand. _I won't hurt him._

_How can I believe that?_

Something had twisted in his chest at Genji's tone, the fear dripping from each word; his posture defensive but open, ready to retaliate if Hanzo decided to lash out but extending an offering of peace and an attempt at understanding. How he manages it all without spontaneously combusting, Hanzo decides he doesn't want to know. _He is more than he seems,_ he had answered, letting some bitterness creep into his voice at the memory of having been thrown off guard. _And, I've taken too much from you already._

At one time in their lives it was Hanzo that Genji would pick fights for. They were raised with the understanding that Hanzo would be the head and Genji would be his right hand, his enforcer, his replacement if needed. Hanzo couldn't respond to rumors and gossips without acknowledging them but Genji wasn't bound by the same rules and rarely hesitated to throw a punch if he heard anyone speaking badly of his brother-- as much as he hated violence, he loved Hanzo more. On his deathbed their father left them both with the same single directive that he'd repeated to them all their lives: Protect each other.

「You're late,」 Hanzo sighs, pulled back to the present by a light nudge to his upper arm.

"I am five minutes early," answers Genji, dropping into a crouch as if to stretch his legs. 

「Which means you should've been here ten minutes ago.」

"Here," he says, blithely ignoring the comment as he lobs something at Hanzo's chest, 「I didn't see you at breakfast.」

Hanzo catches it, looks down, the pastries still warm in his hand. Genji's already turned away, checking his equipment while Hanzo eats, mechanical body whirring quietly as he tests his joints, the edges of his swords. He moves quickly through the familiar routine, a habit they were taught as children and never lost. The thought that Genji is _so different now_ wars with the echo in Hanzo's mind that says his little brother is exactly the same; on nights he used to sneak home through Hanzo's courtyard-facing room he'd always leave a snack-- oden, chips, a cheap takeout bento. Studying always makes him hungry, he'd say, which is why he'd avoided it at all costs, throwing pitying looks at Hanzo's stack of work as he slinks through to his own room.

Hanzo snorts as he brushes crumbs off his hands, resisting the urge to wipe grease off his fingers onto his gi. 「Nothing to drink?」

Genji turns around, head rolling back slightly to indicate the force with which he's rolling his eyes. He catches Hanzo's crooked half-smile, snorts as he leads the way to the cliff face along the Watchpoint's perimeter. 「You can have your tea after we finish reactivating the Watchpoint's security system. Break into your flask if you're truly thirsty.」 Genji swings himself over the ledge, lowering himself past an overhang to inspect the camera installed under it. 「Winston sent you the list?」

「Fourteen motion sensors,」 Hanzo says, following, though he hauls himself sideways, 「eight cameras, and six turrets.」

「Two points for a motion sensor,」 Genji murmurs as he flips open a panel on the camera and begins adjusting its settings, his other hand wedged in a narrow crack on the cliff face, feet braced against the limestone, 「three per camera, and four for a turret.」

「Challenge accepted, little brother.」

* * *

"I sent you those texts week ago," Mercy says once D.Va's breezed out of her office. She gives Lúcio a pointed look, her hands folded in her lap. "So if there is something you cannot share with Hana, now is your time to do so."

Lúcio laughs sheepishly, hands braced on his seat as he spins himself on the revolving chair in front of her desk. "I was wondering," he says, "if you still had uh, Genji's medical files?"

"I do." 

Nodding, he stops the momentum of his spin and faces her. "I'm working on something," says Lúcio, "and I was wondering if you could... maybe... let me take a look?"

Mercy gives him an apologetic smile. "You will need his explicit permission if you want them from me, Lúcio." She shuffles a stack of papers, pulling one folder free and jotting something illegible on the last page of Hana's file. She'll probably digitize it later, though Lúcio wonders vaguely if she'll even be able to read it. Maybe it's Athena that will have to parse her handwriting. "We are bound by doctor-patient confidentiality, as I am sure you're aware."

"Hey, it was worth a shot."

"He has access to his own schematics and files, however." She gestures with her pen at the computer set up on her desk, Athena's logo flashing in the corner. "If you asked, I am sure Genji would be happy to provide them to you."

Lúcio sighs, hopping to his feet. He probably would, but that would defeat the purpose of a _surprise_. Scratching the back of his neck and rolling his shoulders, he regards Mercy again. "You really call them schematics, huh?"

"That is the technical term, yes."

"Thanks, doc." Lúcio turns, smoothly spinning on his skates as he heads for the door. "I'll see you around!"

"If you require assistance," she calls after him, "my door is always open!"

Lúcio sighs as the door slides shut behind him, picking up speed as he heads back to the residential wing. He doesn't bother taking his usual scenic route along the perimeter (sometimes dropping down to wallride across the face of the cliff), cutting clear across the base to his own room and settling down at his desk, popping his laptop open. He checks his e-mail, his social media, fiddles uselessly with a few soundfiles before he finally shuts it all down and clicks the Athena logo set in a corner of his desktop. 

Her voice pours out of his speakers, chipper and curious. He rarely requests her help. 'How can I help you today, Lúcio?'

"Hey Athena," he says, "can you bring up Genji's file?"

'You will need clearance to access personnel files.'

"Lúcio Correia dos Santos, agent ID 93482. Passcode ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■."

_Shimada, Genji._

Lúcio scans the page, no information provided other than a sparse name-age-hometown-base list and his previous three assignments. No other links or leads, probably nothing more than a quick primer for new recruits. "Can you bring up his medical records?"

'You will need either Dr. Ziegler's passcode, or Genji's.'

Lúcio drums his fingers against the spacebar, bottom lip between his teeth. After a few seconds, expecting nothing, he says, "Please tell me Genji's isn't still peanutbutter."

_Access granted._

He groans, forehead thunking against the surface of his desk. "Log out."

'You have been signed out.'

"Actually," Lúcio says, waving a hand at the screen, "wait, lemme back in. Pull up those files again."

Athena grants his request, bringing up an encrypted folder full of vidoes, photos and blueprints. Lúcio starts with the blueprints, though the folder marked 'admission' tempts him for a few long seconds. He's already seen the inside of Genji's body-- it's hard to get more personal than that, but the thought of going behind his back to look at pictures of how he was when Overwatch found him turns Lúcio's stomach, nearly as much as the actual circumstances of Genji's recruitment do. Curiosity aside, he'd accessed the files for a purpose. 

It takes nearly an hour for Lúcio finish his research, logging out with a request to Athena to make Genji change his password. (She agrees, very indignantly cosigning his shock that someone who'd regularly broken through Shimada Clan security could be so careless with his online presence.)

By the time he's bored, it's late in the afternoon and he's missed lunch. Lúcio hasn't missed a meal in a while-- Genji usually brings him something to tide him over, or if he's not too focused on his work, drags him away for food. He stows his project, basking momentarily in the satisfaction of a job mostly done as he stretches his back and heads for the mess hall.

* * *

Lúcio runs into Zenyatta first, the omnic floating serenely toward the Watchpoint perimeter where he and Genji usually meditate. He swerves off his original path, flanking him with a casual greeting before he asks, "Have you seen Genji?"

"He finds me when he desires my company," Zenyatta answers, slowing his pace but drifting steadily along. Lúcio finds himself following, drawn in by the easygoing quality of the omnic's voice, mechanical pitch unexpectedly lending warmth to it. Zenyatta doesn't seem to mind, his orbs flashing in a whimsical pattern.

"He was supposed to be back after the morning patrol," says Lúcio, unable to suppress his vague disappointment, "but I think he's still off somewhere with Hanzo."

"It bothers you?"

"It's not like we made plans or anything, but I wanted to see him, y'know?"

Zenyatta stops under his favorite olive tree (it's stubby and twisted, but stubbornly growing), lowering himself to sit cross-legged on the ground. "Genji does not easily let others into his life," he says as Lúcio joins him. That could be a bit of an understatement, considering how long Genji had actively resisted any sort of attempt at emotional connection, but Zenyatta presses on. "Suddenly, he has two people for whom he cares greatly entering it, and he has not yet found the balance between you and his brother. He will need time, and understanding."

"Oh." The thought of having to share Genji's time with anyone else (but _especially_ Hanzo) still grates, but Lúcio sighs, lacing his fingers together behind his head and flopping back onto the grass. "Yeah, I get it."

Zenyatta turns his head, a smile in his voice. "But, it is also very rude to disappear with no prior notice. We will speak with him when he reappears."

Lúcio lets Zenyatta sit in peace for a few minutes, skates tapping idly against each other. It takes a while for him to consider that the sound might be annoying to someone who's trying to meditate, but with the way Zenyatta's orbs brighten and dim in time to his beat he figures that the omnic doesn't mind-- and he probably isn't getting much meditation done, either.

Lúcio sits, pulls his legs up, crossing his arms over his knees, the tapping transferring from his legs to his fingers, drumming against his shins. "You're only here 'cause of Genji, huh?"

"I am here to support Overwatch in whatever ways I can." Shoulders straightening, Zenyatta heaves a sigh-- or what passes for one, a soft breathy sound of resignation. "Genji initially did not want me here; he said that Overwatch's actions may clash with my beliefs, and it could be dangerous."

Lúcio looks out over the water, squinting slightly against the sun's refraction off choppy waves. The ripples look tiny from their vantage point, practically smooth, but living in Rio, the ocean's visible from almost any elevation. The water's going to be rough for any smaller boats in the bay. He glances back at Zenyatta, easily picking out minute expressive shifts in his body language, the soft whir of his systems. "But you're here anyway."

"There are very few places I feel as though I belong. Overwatch has become one of them, at least in some ways."

"You miss Nepal?" Lúcio asks.

"Very much."

Gesturing in a vaguely-east direction, Lúcio rests his cheek over his crossed arms, eyes narrowed against the glint of the sun off the smooth planes of Zenyatta's armor. "How long have you been away from the Shambali?"

"Three years."

"Long time."

"Yes." Zenyatta turns his hands, palms-up to rest on his knees. He looks at Lúcio, the slits of his eyes unmoving but the tilt of his head and the slope of his shoulders speaking volumes. "You have been traveling for a long time as well."

"When I was in Brazil, I couldn't see anything but the violence and corruption. I just wanted to get out." Lúcio laughs, trying to lighten the mood even though he can sense the bitterness in his tone and he knows he isn't fooling Zenyatta in the least. "Now that I've been away for so long, it feels like all I remember about it is the music, the beaches, the food. All the beautiful people." He can't bring himself to actually say _homesick_ , though he'd always had the impression that it would be a more defined emotion rather than the sense of displacement that clings to him when he has a moment too long to dwell on it. "I can't stay long even if I go back 'cause trouble just seems to follow me around, but it'd be nice to just-- go home, you know?"

They let a silence sit for several seconds before Zenyatta finally speaks. "I understand," he says, deeply sympathetic, "but sometimes one must find home in many places. Maybe even in a person."

The suggestion carries a hint of playfulness. Very obvious.

"I can't put that on him, Genji's already..."

"He's already?"

"It's already like he doesn't hold anything back, y'know?" Lúcio gives an exaggerated shrug. "It'll just be more pressure."

Zenyatta laughs-- surprised and pleased at the description. "Yes. But I am sure he will not mind. With how much he leans on you, it is fair to depend on him in return." A beat. "I think he might prefer it."

"You know I don't mind being there for him." Lúcio extends a fist, flashing Zenyatta a smile when the omnic gingerly bumps it with his own. "And you, if you ever need it."

"Then," says Zenyatta, "what makes you think he would mind taking on that pressure for your sake?"

"Oh. Huh."

"I am also available to you, Lúcio." Zenyatta gestures at himself, then continues, "If you need help, do not hesitate to come to either of us. You are very important to Genji, and someone I care for as well."

"He's really special to you, huh?"

"He is my student, my friend, and a person who is very dear to me." Voice softening, the monk pauses a moment before ducking his head, almost unable to meet Lúcio's eyes. "I love Genji without reserve, in whatever form he will accept."

Lúcio hears the hum of Zenyatta's machinery amp up, a robotic hand bashfully covering the mouth-looking seam on his face. "I bet he feels the same about you," he says cautiously, trying to understand the odd twist in his gut. Logically, he should be glad that someone like Zenyatta is looking out for Genji, but the idea doesn't set him at ease; maybe it's the omnic's sincerity, the declaration of love that comes so easily and naturally to describe their relationship. 

"I know he does." This time Zenyatta places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing with surprising gentleness for the hard metal of his fingers. "But you do not need to reassure me of his affection, Lúcio. We are _not_ competing."

From anyone else it might sound like a boast, but Zenyatta's meaning is clear to him. "I didn't say we were," Lúcio mutters, hopping to his feet. This time he grins, scuffing his skates against the ground as he flicks dirt off his elbow and slides backwards toward the residential wing. "Hey, don't look at me like that."

Zenyatta's gaze follows him. His reply is a flat monotone, but Lúcio can swear he hears a chuckle. "I have no facial expressions."

* * *

It's well past midday by the time Genji and Hanzo finish. Genji settles on a small outcropping, his feet dangling over the edge while Hanzo joins him. 「That took longer than I thought it would,」 he says, hands clasped between his knees. 

Hanzo looks at him, a small cloud of dust rising as he sits. 「Thirty-eight points,」 he murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest, his bow and quiver set between them. He pulls one foot up under his knee, the metal fitting smoothly under the bend.

「Forty.」

「That's impossible.」

Genji turns, visor flashing. 「Jealousy doesn't suit you, brother.」

「With the number of devices,」 Hanzo clarifies, 「there should only have been seventy-six points available.」 He smirks at Genji's annoyed huff, waiting for his brother to finish the calculations on his own, a growl signalling the end of his task. Hanzo echoes the sound, leaning back to look at the cliff face above them, at the small breaks in mottled sandstone that indicate some piece of surveillance equipment.

「I flagged all of mine,」 says Genji.

「I did as well.」

「Maybe you counted one twice.」

「Recount.」 Hanzo slides off the ledge, leaving his weapons on the plateau while he makes for the closest turret. 「Maybe you got thirty-eight.」

Genji sighs, scrambling up the wall along a crack in the rock to reach a camera, a piece of blue tape marking Hanzo's point. 「I suppose we'll have to,」 he answers, switching communication to their receivers instead of out loud. 「Wouldn't it be funny if you got thirty-six?」

「Not a chance.」

They spend another hour tracking down each of the devices on Winston's list again, ticking them off until Hanzo points at a camera under a distinctive, dangerously steep overhang and scuttles over. 「That one,」 the younger Shimada points out, 「is not on the list.」

「Oversight or espionage?」 Hanzo asks, peering closer and peeling a piece of blue tape off its side. 「If it's not in your system, it could be feeding back to someone else's. Talon?」

「Possibly. Let's disable it and bring it back. I don't have the time to hang here and try to break into its back-end, and Winston can do it faster.」

Hanzo disables the camera and unscrews it from its mount with the screwdriver Genji produces out of some slot in his armor, tucking the device into his obi while they scale the cliff back to the plateau to retrieve his bow and quiver. 

「You seem comfortable here,」 Genji comments as they trek back to the Watchpoint across a long stretch of scrubby grass. Their strides are short, leisurely, both trying to extend the time until they'll be back in the presence of the other agents. Privacy and quiet are hard to come by in Gibraltar, some crisis constantly in need of attention-- at least one Shimada usually required. Whatever chances they get to talk are usually cut off halfway, or interrupted by actual work. 「Does this mean you'll stay?」

Hanzo doesn't face Genji but his tone softens from its usual harsh growl. 「I planned to leave when you recovered.」

「But you didn't.」

「I know that my presence makes you uneasy.」 Sighing, Hanzo puts his hand on Genji's shoulder, a thick callus on his palm catching in the seam of his shoulder vent. 「I shouldn't have come in the first place.」

It sounds like one of Hanzo's circuitous goodbyes. 

Genji pauses, idly picks up Hanzo's wrist, turning his hand to inspect it. 「You should stay,」 he says, thumbing at the base of his fingers where an entirely different set of calluses used to live. They're gone now, faded from lack of practice. 「I'll get over it eventually.」

「You've built something for yourself,」 answers Hanzo, pulling his hand away after indulging his brother for a few seconds. Genji's too observant, too calm, too _forgiving_. He'd said that he doesn't trust Hanzo but both their old habits are hard to break and his guard is down, posture open and vulnerable the way it always used to be around him. Hanzo turns on his heel, walking ahead, trying to put some distance between them. 「I would just ruin it all over again,」 he continues, ears tuned to the quiet pat of Genji's feet behind him.

「I haven't built anything, but I now have people I hope to never disappoint.」 Another pause, then Genji's back in step beside him, matching their strides with an ease that Hanzo would never admit that he misses. 「If that's the difference between you and me, brother, there's a simple answer: I am _right here_.」

「Lúcio.」

「Yes. I know you don't like him, but--」

「No,」 Hanzo interrupts, not meeting Genji's eyes. 「When you found me in Hanamura and I saw what you had become, I thought that even though you were alive, I had taken any chance of happiness from you. I'm glad that I was wrong.」

「He still doesn't like you, though.」

「He's a smart man.」

「Maybe if you stick around long enough, he'll warm up to you.」

Genji had certainly never felt that sort of loyalty to their family, and Hanzo squashes the old swell of anger that rises up the back of his throat. He takes a calming breath instead, pitch neutral. 「And the omnic. A Shambali, no less.」

Genji crosses his arms across his chest. Just as Hanzo had resisted antagonizing him, he holds back on insisting that Hanzo use Zenyatta's name. 「We are all one within the Iris, brother,」 he says.

Hanzo scoffs.

「Do you know what they mean?」

Hanzo resists a jab about Genji finding religion. Whatever his relationship to the Shambali, they had helped him, and Hanzo's grateful. 「Is it robot nirvana,」 he deadpans, cocking one skeptical brow.

「The Iris refers to many things, but among the definitions: sentience.」 He'd always been interested in philosophy, history, literature. Hanzo easily recalls the many times their father had tried to show Genji the ins and outs of bookkeeping for the clan, little brother's eyes glazing over within seconds. But Genji would always pay rapt attention to stories of their family from the feudal era, the fantastical tales that had passed into Shimada legend. 「From certain perspectives,」 he continues, gesturing as he walks, 「it could mean, 'We are all united in awareness of our selves and of each other'. We are not so different from the omnics.」

「They are machines,」 Hanzo snorts.

「I am mostly machine,」 Genji points out. 「It was a machine that helped me accept this body. How does a cyborg hold onto his humanity? By realizing humanity isn't limited to flesh and blood.」

Hanzo growls, deep and low. Conversations like this never interested him-- one of the many reasons he and Genji had grown distant in the few years before their father died. Genji liked debate, liked to mine a concept, turn it in his mind and investigate, trying to tear it down. Hanzo's never been interested in semantics or perspective; he's always preferred utility, hard numbers, cold fact. The perfect pair to lead the Shimadas, their father used to say. Heart and mind. 「Let me see your face,」 he says, stopping again. When Genji turns to look at him, he shakes his head, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the base. 「Why are you so fixated on healers?」

Genji doesn't remove his mask, standing stock-still in front of his brother. There's a skeptical note in his voice, his shoulders drawing back as he regards Hanzo. 「Do you really want the answer to that question?」

「Yes.」

「Why do _you_ subject yourself to this?」

「I want to know.」

Genji has no real desire to hurt Hanzo, but he'd tried to spare his brother's feelings and his warning had been dismissed. Besides, some small, angry part of him still wants to see Hanzo pay for his deeds. 

「I have much to heal from,」 he answers, sliding the pads of his fingers across the latches behind his head and removing his visor. He blinks a few times, squinting as the sun hits his eyes, and replaces the filter before dust from the dry earth around them can get into his lungs. 

Hanzo visibly suppresses a flinch. 「There's more.」

There are other reasons, but Hanzo must already know them; it's convenient to be on good terms with healers, and their personalities are soothing. Mercy's confidence, Lúcio's positivity, Zenyatta's calm-- the things Genji would never say to them are the only things he feels comfortable sharing with Hanzo. That he'd never stopped sizing up every single person he's ever met, both as a target for assassination and a potential physical threat. That the training so diligently instilled in them has never left him, despite every attempt and indication otherwise.

「If they choose to betray me,」 he says, 「they cannot hurt me more than I can hurt them.」 

「I have no right to tell you how to live your life,」 Hanzo mutters, looking uneasy, 「but as your brother, I am concerned--」

「Yes,」 Genji interrupts, 「you have no right.」

Hanzo falls silent, brows drawing together, the corners of his lips turning down. Not anger this time, but hurt. 

As if recognizing the harsh edges of his words, Genji draws back, voice gentle. It sounds no different than when his visor is on, emanating from the artificial larynx. 「When we were children,」 he says, 「I thought that my brother was the strongest, wisest person I would ever know. We were so young, then, and too many things have changed.」 He turns his palms forward, head ducking. 「But whatever you feel, I am glad to have you back in my life. Thank you, for humoring my selfish request.」

Storm Bow slips from Hanzo's fingers, clattering to the ground. _He is so different now_ and _He hasn't changed at all_ wars again in his mind, Genji's familiar, warm eyes staring at him out of a face so scarred Hanzo can find almost nothing left of the brother he once knew. He sinks to his knees, a proper seiza, and Genji watches with growing alarm as his forehead touches the grass. A dogeza. 

Hanzo in a dogeza. 

Genji edges closer to panic, eyes darting around them for some kind of escape from this clearly warped reality-- but he can't just leave Hanzo prostrate on the ground so he stays rooted in place. 

Hanzo curls his fingers, nails scratching trenches into the dry dirt. 「I was never wise or strong, Genji.」

「Brother!」

「If I were either of those things,」 Hanzo rasps, nearly choking on words forced through a decaying, decade-old wall of pride, 「our lives would have turned out differently. I am sorry. Nothing I say can take back what I did, but I am sorry. I don't know what I can do--」

「What happened cannot be undone, brother.」 Genji lets his visor fall and he drops to one knee, roughly pulling Hanzo upright by the arm. His voice softens, desperate and tinged with longing. 「Forgive yourself and allow us both to move on. I already have.」

「How can I?」 Hanzo tries to jerk his arm out of Genji's grip but his cybernetic muscles lock, staying absolutely still. 「The Shimadas are a clan grown in the shadows. It is how we were raised, and I don't know if it is something we can escape.」

「People say that we must fight the violence in ourselves,」 Genji sighs, 「but it is a part of who I am. I recognize it for what it is, and I have turned it to the causes that I believe in, to protect the ones I care for. You could do the same?」

「I have a responsibility to our clan. To our family, and our name.」 Hanzo's hand closes around Genji's upper arm, his fingers catching in the seam of armor and holding on tight. 「We could rebuild the Shimadagumi together. Months after I thought I had killed you, I left and the group fell into decline. I did not return, but with you by my side--」

「Brother,」 Genji interrupts, his voice low and calm as he stands and pulls Hanzo to his feet, 「the one who dismantled the Shimada group, who do you think it was?」

「Genji--」

「I tapped the phones, accessed the records and schedules and bank transactions. I raided the warehouses and provided evidence to the PSIA.」 Genji steps closer, his voice harsh, oscillating as he pushes his voicebox to its limits, 「I didn't do it out of revenge, but because a clan of thugs and murderers should not have the power that the Shimada clan did. I had only thought to spite you, but when you left they became much more dangerous. Disordered, violent, dragging civilians into their operations, and I couldn't leave them to run free.」

「It was you? You would do that to your _family_ \--」

「The family that questioned your legitimacy and tried to have me killed. That forced you to do it. They wanted you dead, but the moment you seemed as though you might return, they were ready to welcome you back with open arms.」 Genji visibly suppresses his anger, taking a shaky breath, shoulders quivering as he releases Hanzo and his hands clench into fists. 「You take responsibility for the incident but blame is due in many places, brother. Let this dream die; bury it with your guilt, and let us be together again.」

Hanzo deflates, his shoulders slumping. 「You said you had forgiven.」

「I forgive you because otherwise I could only kill you, and I could never be at peace if I murdered my own brother.」 Genji takes a cautious step forward, his arms warily curling around Hanzo's neck. He sighs as his brother tugs him into a suffocating hug. 「I know now that you're a victim of the same family I was,」 he whispers, face buried against Hanzo's shoulder, 「and our father couldn't protect us from it after his death. I do _not_ forgive the ones who pit us against each other, and you are asking too much of me to do so.」

「A different Shimada Group, then.」 Genji ignores the undignified sniffle by his ear, Hanzo pulling him even more tightly against his broad chest. 「The one we were always meant to lead. We thought we could be like the yakuza who protected our neighborhood when we were young, who flew supplies in to demolished neighborhoods after an omnic attack.」

「You want to fund a non-profit organization,」 Genji says, his own voice hitching in a laugh as Hanzo's grip loosens and he pulls back. 「That, I might be willing to help with.」

* * *

The door opens behind Lúcio while he's still bent over his desk, lamp shining on a scattered assortment of parts. He can usually hear people coming down the hall, each agent's footsteps different and distinctive to his ears; Hanzo and Genji have the quietest strides, but he can usually still pick them out. It's Genji coming closer, pausing behind Lúcio's seat while he painstakingly twists a miniscule screw into place. When he's done, he spins his chair around, grinning as Genji presents a cardboard to-go box of food.

"Master Zenyatta told me that you missed lunch," Genji says, sounding irritated, "I went by the canteen at dinner, but didn't see you there either. You need to eat, Lúcio."

Lúcio's stomach takes that moment to growl, as if in agreement with Genji's fussing. "Oh man," he says, standing and stepping into the arm curling around the small of his back, Genji setting the container on his desk. "I was gonna eat, but I totally forgot."

Removing his visor, Genji tosses it lightly to land on Lúcio's bed, wedging it neatly in the crease under his pillow. "Lena and Winston ordered takeout."

Lúcio leans back, braced against a cool metal gauntlet. He stares for a long moment into Genji's face, then reaches up to rub the pad of his thumb between his brows. The almost ever-present crease is gone-- or at least significantly faded, no longer obvious between the scars. "You look good, Genji."

"Hmm," he replies, leaning down, "don't I always look good?"

It takes a few seconds for Lúcio to process his words, and when they finally register he breaks their kiss, jerking away in lieu of accidentally headbutting Genji as he laughs. "Yeah," he sighs when he finally collects himself, dragging the cyborg back down, "you always look good."

This time Genji pulls away with a gentle reminder to eat, turning Lúcio physically in place and ushering him back to his desk. "It is almost midnight," he points out, privately making a note to check in more often. He would have come sooner, but Winston had requested his help in the lab (at least one Shimada required, and Hanzo refuses to miss his afternoon drills) and Winston's project had been more time-consuming than expected. "How is it?" he asks when Lúcio finally digs in, poking around a pile of fried rice and steamed vegetables.

"Yeah," he answers, pounding on his chest a few times just as Genji produces a bottle of water from behind his back, "it's great. You cleared the air with your brother?"

Genji takes a while to respond, first locating another chair, sitting on it, and scooting up behind Lúcio to watch as he eats. "Yes," he murmurs into Lúcio's shoulder, arms tightening around his waist, "we cleared the air."

"'M happy for you."

"Thank you."

When he finishes eating, Lúcio tips the used container off the edge of his desk into the garbage can and leans into Genji's chest, turning his head to allow a nuzzle against his cheek. "Hey," he says, idly considering that Genji really is just like a cat sometimes (that is, liable to disappear for hours and reappear for attention), "do you believe in soulmates?"

The abrupt switch in topics doesn't seem to bother Genji at all-- it never does. He huffs, shifting slightly to better accommodate Lúcio's weight. "Do you?"

"Nah."

"Nn. Same."

Pointing at himself, Lúcio grins and asks, "How would you describe us?"

"Compatible?"

"Yeah, we have a good harmony."

"The idea of soulmates makes no sense to me, in any case. People change constantly." Genji's cybernetics thrum under Lúcio's spine, one of his hands turning palm-up to catch Lúcio's and interlacing their fingers. "Relationships with friends, siblings, parents, children, co-workers, lovers-- they all take commitment and effort. Very few people are natural fits for each other." He continues, mouth curving into a wry smile against the back of Lúcio's neck, "The best most of us can do is find someone for whom they are willing to do the work, and who will reciprocate."

"You made it serious again, gatinho."

Genji's grip loosens when he feels Lúcio move to stand. He follows suit, leaning against the edge of the desk as Lúcio yawns and heads for his closet, pulling out a t-shirt, boxers, one of several dozen basketball shorts. "I," says Genji, "have had plenty of time to think on my relationships with others."

Lúcio tosses his clothes onto his bed, carefully avoiding Genji's visor as he unlatches his skates and extracts his prosthetics from under the bed. "Zenyatta help with that?" he asks as he changes, rolling around on his back while Genji looks on.

"Yes. However, I often wish I could do more for you than remind you to eat."

"Hey, you do plenty."

Genji makes his way across the room, carefully leaning Lúcio's skates against the bedside table and moving his visor so neither of them can accidentally stab themselves on its pointed end. Sitting next to Lúcio, who's cross-legged in the middle of the mattress, he clasps his hands in front of him, elbows on his knees as he regards the thoughtful expression on Lúcio's face. "You spent the day with my master?"

"Part of it." Lúcio gives him a look, brows furrowing. "How'd you know?" 

"You seem... confused. He has that effect on people." Genji shrugs, a sympathetic turn to his lips. "Very frustrating, at times."

"He is seriously wise."

"When I came to know him better," says Genji, "I thought that such an old soul could not possibly have been programmed. I still believe so."

"Hey," Lúcio mutters after a beat, motioning in the general direction of across-the-hall, "so, why _not_ you and Zenyatta? I think he'd be open to it. And you, y'know." 

"I am still constantly surprised by how wise he is," Genji answers, his face carefully neutral. Lúcio doesn't seem particularly upset anymore at their closeness, sounding mostly intrigued by what had brought and kept them together. "And sometimes, how young."

"Wait, how old is he?"

"Twenty. I think his attachment to me is mostly because of proximity and inexperience."

Lúcio squints. "Twenty... hundred?"

"Twenty," Genji repeats, gesturing vaguely. "He is wise, but his consciousness is relatively new. Omnics can process hard data easily, experiences only at the same average rate as a human adult. How each of them decides to interpret that combination of data and experience is up to the individual."

"So he's like a twenty-year-old in terms of life experience."

"Less. The sentience algorithm takes years to compile." Genji makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat; it had taken him a long time to come to terms with how omnics age, the final conclusion being that it all varies and there's very little point to drawing concrete distinctions. Still, he'd outgrown the impulse to fistbump himself over a decade ago, something Zenyatta still finds incredible humor in. "We cannot judge an omnic's age by their experience in human years as they are manufactured with a base maturity, but I have imposed on his life too much already."

Lúcio pulls his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as Genji removes his headgear entirely and leans back to lie flat on the mattress, his feet still on the floor and hands clasped across his abdomen. Lúcio reaches down to card his fingers through Genji's hair, brushing the strands back from his forehead. "He doesn't see it that way."

Blunt: "Are you trying to convince me to leave you for my master?"

"Huh? No, I just..."

"You just?" Genji prompts, the remains of one brow cocking. 

"Hm."

"He deserves better." Genji turns away, as if to hide the contemplative frown on his face. "As do you."

Lúcio lets out a long exhale, cheeks puffing out. Genji's normally a pretty upbeat guy, easily able to match Lúcio's energy, keeping up with ease when most other people would lag behind or insist he slow down. Other times he seems stuck in his past, caught up in old memories and insecurities-- not that Lúcio doesn't understand the impulse. "Look," he says, shifting so he can firmly put both hands on Genji's shoulders, bearing down on him, "stop. Don't do that. What I _deserve_ isn't something anyone gets to decide for me. I _want_ you. We're good together. I think you feel the same about me, so that's all that matters."

Genji blinks, slow and surprised. "Then," he says, flashing a smile as he leans up to drop a playful kiss on Lúcio's nose, "for as long as you will have me, I'm with you."

Lúcio shuffles back as Genji pushes himself upright, something about those words sitting wrong in his mind. It takes a moment but when it registers Lúcio frowns, head canting to the side. "You don't think this is gonna last," he says, eyes narrowed, somewhat hurt by the realization but not entirely surprised. "I'm not guaranteeing forever, but I'm not just playing around here. You don't think it's gonna last, but you're all in anyway." 

"Nothing is permanent." Genji doesn't deny it, holding their eye contact steady. "I am simply living so that I will not have regrets." 

"I'm not sure I can do that."

"That's fine." Genji smiles, a brittle expression now that he's been caught out. "You give a piece of yourself to everyone you meet; that is something I deeply admire about you, Lúcio. I give all of myself only to the few I care for. They are both ways to live, and I don't expect you to follow my path. I don't want you to."

It's a familiar conversation, Lúcio's gut churning at the thought of Genji somehow believing that he's not good enough, or not worth staying for, or that Lúcio would somehow get bored of him or realize that he has so many more opportunities and options than anything Genji can offer. Lúcio gives him an incredulous look, mouth skewed sideways in confusion. "Why?"

"I have very little left to lose." Genji pulls back, putting physical distance between them to match the gap in understanding Lúcio hadn't even realized was there until just that moment. "The trajectory of your life is different from mine," he says, trying to inflect his tone with more confidence than he's realistically been able to muster for over a decade, "and you should treat it as such."

Not buying any of it, Lúcio closes the distance between them. Genji doesn't draw away again, hands resting lightly on Lúcio's hips, as if to steady him as he leans right into his face. "What happened to getting old together?" Lúcio demands, expression serious.

Genji deflects: "Wasn't I high on painkillers when I said that?"

"So you didn't mean it."

"It was just a passing thought." Genji reaches for his visor but Lúcio catches his wrist, holding on as he presses their foreheads together, scowling. "A hopeful one," Genji clarifies, unable to withstand the unrelenting intensity directed at him, "unrealistically so."

"And I'm saying," Lúcio insists, "I'm down to try if you are." 

His expression shifts to concern when Genji abruptly looks away, free hand covering his eyes as he takes a shaky breath. Cyborgs technically don't even need to breathe quite as much as an average human, but Lúcio decides that the sight of Genji on the verge of hyperventilating is a decent cause for alarm. "Hey," he says, leaning in and then drawing back when he catches a glimpse of damp streaks across the matte black lining on the heel of Genji's palm, his eyes squeezed shut, "what's wrong? You alright?"

Neither of them move for a few long seconds but finally Genji huffs, a quiet laugh. "I didn't realize that after all that's happened," he answers, his voice soft, words stumbling over themselves in a rush, "it was still possible for me to feel this way."

"Hey," Lúcio murmurs, shifting to sit with his back against his pillows and pulling Genji with him, "we're together on this, right? I'm gonna make you feel like this all the time, if that's what it takes. C'mere, I wanna hear you say it."

"Yes, Lúcio. I'm with you."

* * *

Genji's already awake by the time Lúcio cracks open his eyes. Lúcio squints blearily at the shape hovering in front of his desk, gently picking up the scattered parts he'd left last night and replacing them, those familiar, deliberate movements setting him at ease. "Morning!" he calls across the room, sitting up and grinning as Genji turns to him, his headgear and visor all securely in place. "See something you like?"

Picking up a sheet of paper with a rough sketch on it, Genji asks, "You read my schematics?"

He doesn't sound particularly bothered; more confused than anything. Lúcio nods, gesturing at the laptop set up on his desk. "You need to change your password, Genji." That gets an amused snort as Lúcio continues, "I mean, I've seen you reprogram an old 3DS game to give infinite lives, you should know how to change a passcode"

"Shimada security primarily used retina scanners," he answers, "and passcodes are a pain. Game code is interesting." Genji goes back to inspecting the contents of Lúcio's desk, picking up a screwdriver and spinning it between his fingers as he continues.

Lúcio yawns, sits up, one hand sneaking under the hem of his shirt to scratch under his navel. "Why do you have your files on hand anyway?" he asks.

"Years ago, I thought that understanding how much of my body was removed and rebuilt would help me accept it more easily." Genji motions briefly at his chest armor and shrugs. 

"Oh," says Lúcio, mouth skewing sideways. His fingers curl over the socket of his knee, thumb rubbing against a groove set in the curve of the hinge. "Doesn't work." 

"No." Genji moves away from the desk as Lúcio stands and approaches to make sure he hasn't lost or misplaced anything. He crosses his arms over his chest and regards the sketch again, a rough depiction of the cybernetic muscle underlying his torso. "What were you doing in my files?"

"Man, I'm sorry I got into them," says Lúcio, sliding open a drawer and extracting a small device with three wires wrapped haphazardly around it, "but I wanted to build you this lil guy. I left the other stuff alone, though, no worries."

"If I didn't want you in them, I would have changed my passcode months ago." Curious again: "What is it?"

Lúcio coughs, whipping out his phone and connecting it to the unit. "You remember when you said, uh, that you haven't been able to, what was it, 'engage in certain activities' since you got the new body?"

"Yes."

"Well I was thinking about electric muscle stimulation," he says, fiddling with the wires, twining them around his fingers, "and even if you can't technically 'do things', you should still be able to _feel_ like you are. So I picked up a TENS unit and tweaked it a bit to match your frequencies, and I think we can make this work?"

"Ah."

Lúcio looks straight into the green line in Genji's visor. "I'm talking orgasms."

"I understand," says Genji, leaning away from the intense stare.

"'Release.'"

"Lúcio."

"Climax," Lúcio drawls, extending the vowel sounds while he waggles his eyebrows.

" _Lúcio._ "

"There are so many words for orgasms," he laughs, grabbing Genji's wrist and pulling him toward the bed.

"Stop."

"You wanna give it a shot?"

"Yes," Genji says, and then he hesitates. "But I have to ask how you came up with this."

"Well a couple years ago when I got stuck on a beat, I set up these two subwoofers." Lúcio illustrates, using his hands to signify speakers, his fingers curled to demonstrate the direction of the sound. "And then I sat in the middle," he continues, mimicking a dial-turn, "pumped the bass up all the way 'cause I thought it'd help, and-- yeah, I didn't get anything else done for the rest of the day. I was thinking about it last week, but I dunno if that'll work for you. I want a sure thing that's not gonna wake up the entire peninsula, you know?"

Genji's voice, rather than being imbued with impressed respect at his ingenuity, leans more toward dismay and concern. "That can cause heart attacks," he points out. "My brother used to warn me not to stand too close to the speakers 'if I absolutely must go out and disgrace our family'."

"Yeah, I know that _now_." He motions for Genji to sit on the edge of the mattress. "Question time over?"

A sigh. "Sure."

"Also," says Lúcio, unwinding the cables and attaching electrode pads to the end, "not that this is something we need to address right now or anything 'cause this is about you, but did you know you've got a vibrate function? Just putting that out there."

"I have a vibrate function?"

"You didn't read your manual?"

Genji removes his visor and sets it aside just so Lúcio can see the incredulous expression on his face. "Who in the history of the world ever reads the manual?"

"Alright," Lúcio mutters, rolling his eyes, "well, it's supposed to keep your joints from locking up in the cold."

Understanding perfectly, Genji reaches for his visor again. "Let me see if I can trigger it manually. It should be in the settings."

"Later! Do it later!" Lúcio straddles him, knees on either side of his hips, and attaches two nodes high on the inside of Genji's thighs and one to the small of his back, three wires leading to the device he'd jury-rigged, both it and a battery pack connected to his phone. "Alright," he says, "you ready? I can't guarantee this is gonna work."

"I trust you," Genji says simply, tilting his head back so Lúcio can lean in for a kiss, soft lips sliding against a mouth so scarred Genji can barely feel them. It doesn't make the faint pressure any less pleasant though, and the vents on Genji's shoulders twist outward, expelling the heat suddenly collecting in what's left of his body. The mechanism would have been deeply cool to his younger self if it didn't make his state of mind so painfully obvious, though Genji finds that he doesn't mind so much if Lúcio is the one who can read him like an open book.

"Alright," says Lúcio, leaning back, nestled securely in Genji's lap. "Let's see... have you heard this one yet? Daft Punk. Old school."

Light, airy electronica pumps out of Lúcio's phone the same moment waves of a sensation Genji hasn't felt in years seem to sink right into his spine and toward his extremities, pulsing with the rhythm of Lúcio's music. It's pleasant for all of a second before phantom limbs abruptly seize, his body tensing underneath the cybernetics. Genji bites back a sound, hands closing on Lúcio's lean, muscular hips.

Lúcio freezes.

"Wait," Genji hisses, his fingers digging into Lúcio's skin with bruising force, his shoulders heaving with effort to breathe, "not so intense. Please."

"Intense-- oh! Yeah, let me-- are you okay? Genji?"

Genji's forehead drops to Lúcio's chest. "Not off, just--"

"Right." A hand curls around the back of his neck, solid and warm.

The volume drops, along with the strength of the impulses Lúcio's pumping in to his system. Genji imagines his own nerves having screamed in terror, thrown into disarray at experiencing something he'd resigned himself to never feeling again, muscles that hadn't seen any use in nearly a decade suddenly forced to work. Slower, and softer, his body adjusts more easily to the adjusted frequency, heat building low in his human gut as Lúcio drapes his arms over his shoulders, grinding down on his lap in leisurely time to the beat of his music, the edge of his phone tapping occasionally against Genji's shoulder armor.

"I know what Daft Punk is," Genji tells him after a few seconds, catching Lúcio's eye. His breathing is uncharacteristically shallow and fast as he brushes his thumbs gently over the ridges of Lúcio's hips, palms sliding up to his waist before he hikes the shirt up and over his head, Lúcio lifting his arms to accommodate the removal. 

"Well," Lúcio laughs, warm and quiet, "I did say old school. You wanna amp it up a bit?"

Genji leans up for a kiss, one hand firm on the small of Lúcio's back to keep from toppling him over with the force of it. When they break apart he half sighs, half moans, " _Yes._ Please."

* * *

Hours later, Genji's been reduced to a trembling, exhausted, overstimulated wreck of a cyborg, curled on his side as he comes down from the kind of sensory overload that can numb all sorts of thoughts, at least for a while. Lúcio leans over to look at his face, stroking his fingers across scarred cheeks, grinning as he cups Genji's jaw and the other man leans into his touch. "Short circuit?" he asks, teasing. "You know, I don't think I even touched you the last two times."

Genji's eyes slide shut, his voice a hoarse gasp. "Have you tried turning it off and back on again?"

"Well, I think I can manage to turn it on again."

Genji groans, nose crinkling. He pulls Lúcio down by the waistband of his shorts, hands fitting themselves easily back along the groove of his sharp hipbones. Prodding gently, he asks, "Did I hurt you?"

"Nah, you can't even see them." Lúcio swats his hands away, shifting awkwardly to get out of reach before he gives up and turns, nestling his back against Genji's chest. He grabs the cyborg's hands and holds onto them, vehemently not allowing him to fuss at a few bruises. "I'm serious, it doesn't hurt!"

Genji sighs, pulling him closer. He allows a brief silence to pass before speaking again, the words carefully chosen. "You said a while ago that I never seem to be angry, or jealous, or afraid," he says, pulling one hand free and flipping three shuriken out of it, grip tightening around Lúcio when he jerks back at the unexpected movement. "It's this," Genji murmurs against the back of Lúcio's neck as he flicks his wrist and returns his weapons to their storage space in his forearm. "This is what I'm afraid of. We see so much violence in our lives already, and I cannot protect you from all of it. The one thing I can't stand, is being the one who injures you."

"Gatinho, it's not that serious. You didn't pull the death stars on me."

"I am jealous of everyone who has never had to worry about hurting those they care for. I am angry when I slip up, but someone else pays the price."

Lúcio contorts his body to meet Genji's eyes, pointedly sliding his fingers across the cool metal hand at his chest and holding on tight. "They're just bruises, Genji. They'll be gone in a couple minutes when I hook up my amp. And it was 'cause of me anyway."

Genji sighs again, the sound followed by a wash of hot air across Lúcio's bare shoulders. "I was built to be a weapon, Lúcio. Not just this cyborg body, but from the moment I was born." His voice softens, expression morose as reality seeps its way back into his consciousness. "I do not think you understand how desperately I want you to be safe, even from me."

 _Especially from me_ , Lúcio hears, something twisting in his chest. He sits up, waiting for Genji to also sit cross-legged in front of him before turning the full force of his scowl on him. "You don't have to protect me from every little thing," he says, voice teetering on the edge of exasperated affection and genuine anger, "I'm not fragile, and I'm not that special, and I don't want to be up on your damn _pedestal_ , Genji. I'm not what you think I am."

Genji opens his mouth. Pauses. Momentarily at a loss for words, he puts both hands on Lúcio's shoulders instead, holding him still. "You," he says, "are a sore loser, but you compensate with positivity. You hold long grudges against those who have wronged you. You become pointlessly competitive with teenaged girls over video games you could not possibly win against a professional gamer, and you think spam on pizza is disgusting."

"Okay, but it is." Lúcio makes a face, wrinkling his nose and sticking out his tongue to demonstrate exactly how unappetizing he finds Genji's choice in pizza toppings. "I don't care how much you used to like it."

"You do not know the limits of your own strength," Genji continues, taking both Lúcio's hands and clasping them between his own, "and you rush into danger to help those you care for without regard for your own safety. You can be stubborn, and irrational." Genji smiles, his expression so tender that Lúcio forgets to breathe. "When people do not properly appreciate you, you sulk."

"But I'd still help them. I wouldn't leave anyone hanging."

"I know. You have done things in your past that you have more than atoned for, even though you refuse to let it rest. You accuse me of ignoring how you feel when I am injured, ignoring that I feel the same when you neglect yourself." Genji places a soft, reverent kiss on his knuckles. "I see _you_ , Lúcio. You are not on a pedestal; the man you are is simply very important to me, and I could not live with myself if you were injured when I could have prevented it."

"Oh. Well." Lúcio coughs, pulling his hands free and scratching his nose. He glances at Genji's face, briefly meeting his eyes before he looks down into his lap again, wishing he had a shirt on so he could wring its hem. "I uh," he mutters, "I love you too, man. You could've just said so."

Genji's shoulder vents pop open, a soft hiss underscoring his shocked silence. The sound prompts Lúcio to look up, corners of his lips quirked mischievously up. 

"Yes," Genji says after a long moment, quickly replacing his visor. "That is... what I meant."

"You can tell me all that with a completely straight face," Lúcio says, his tone accusing if it weren't for the laugh in it, "but you can't even handle me being honest with you."

"I was not raised to speak so plainly." Genji's hand crawls up, fingers sprawling over where his eyes would be, as if even his mask weren't enough to shield him from Lúcio's gaze. "Love is a strong word."

Lúcio leans closer. "Too strong?"

"Too weak," he almost whispers, shoulders drawing up. "It has been for a long time."

Lúcio buries his face in his hands. "You did it again."

"Let's stop," Genji mutters, his own face turned away. He looks hesitantly back, head ducking slightly as he shifts closer, fingers settling on Lúcio's hips, where he'd grabbed earlier. He can't actually _see_ any bruises, and Lúcio catches his wrists and pulls them away before he can inspect more carefully.

"If you're so worried," Lúcio murmurs as he shifts forward, curling Genji's arms around his own neck, "kiss them better. Did I hurt _you_?"

"No. Thank you."

Lúcio's hands come up to the release latches on the back of Genji's head and he waits on a minute nod of assent before he presses them and methodically removes his headgear. "You gotta let me take care of you too, okay?"

"You already do, in more ways than I can count."

Lúcio shakes his head, marveling at the shy smile on Genji's face before he grins back. "You know what I mean."

"Now," Genji says, sounding perfectly calm, "allow me to take care of you." He removes the nodes Lúcio had stuck to him earlier, shifts Lúcio's phone to the table, and makes a quick sweep of the bed just to ensure that he hasn't missed anything.

"You," Lúcio retorts as Genji rolls him under, "are so cheesy."

Genji looms over him, weight supported on his hands, Lúcio's knees hitched up by his thighs. Leaning down to bump their foreheads together, he closes his eyes and breathes, "We should stay in bed all day."

"I don't have any plans," Lúcio answers, making a mental note to cancel _everything_. He'd promised Hana that they could record a stream together, and Mercy that he'd let her take a look at how he'd altered Vishkar's hard-light tech to augment healing, and Tracer that they could race, but they'd understand. They'd probably cheer him on. "Anymore."

Genji snorts, pulling back a bit to be an _utter killjoy_. "Winston needs our help testing the combat simulator early tomorrow morning," he says, a gentle reminder. 

"Oh," Lúcio shoots back, wrapping his legs around Genji's waist and tugging him off balance, "better take it easy on me then."

He lands with his elbows by Lúcio's ears, weight still held carefully up to prevent jabs or pokes against armor. Leaning down, Genji brushes his lips across the sharp curve of Lúcio's cheek, his voice a sly, heady purr. "Even now that I've found my vibrate function?"

Lúcio short-circuits, the combination of Genji's voice, his presence, his hand sneaking into the waistband of his shorts blowing all thought out of his mind. "You," he sputters, mustering as much indignation as he can while he tries to form a comeback, "you fight dirty."

"Ninjas," Genji growls, half-laughing against Lúcio's neck, "are _not_ known for fair play."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's a wrap!! thanks for reading, everyone :') might edit more later, but there shouldn't be any huge changes. sorry for dragging some of you into rarepair hell!!

**Author's Note:**

> [@DRAGONZAIR DREW FANART](http://dragonzair.tumblr.com/post/147053749220/paborito-dedicated-to-duvallon-who-is-determined)   
>  [SO DID @STRAWBEARRRIES WHOA](http://strawbearrymilk.tumblr.com/post/147515031864/so-recently-i-got-into-overwatch-and-the-first)   
>  [LOOK AT @SOLUSBANE'S BEAUTIFUL ART TOO](http://solusbane.tumblr.com/post/147859744681/i-ship-them-slides#tumblr_notes)   
>  [YOOO @PLATTKAEFER DID THE SCENE!!!!](http://plattkaefer.tumblr.com/post/148105813204/sunshine-on-skates-also-some-sketches-for)   
>  [@REDGRAVECONSPIRACY DID A THING!!!!](http://redgraveconspiracy.tumblr.com/post/149665929692/opens-the-shipping-gates-international-music)   
>  [LOOK AT THIS THANK U @OORANGY](http://ooorangy.tumblr.com/post/152245670537)


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